From the Beginning of The Aria, Please
by CheeriosAreSquare
Summary: The story of the ballet mistress and the opera ghost through childhood until the end. "You will forevermore see me as the opera ghost and that is who I shall become" Please Read and Review!
1. Prologue

"Ann," He gasped out," I've done wrong." Tears streamed down his eyes as he whimpered, collapsing at the ballet mistress's feet.

"Shh," She tried to comfort, like all those other times.

"Oh, Erik," She sighed, opening her arms as he gasped for hectic breathes and begging for _her_. He found his ways into her arms and she felt that odd feeling of deja vu of the little boy she helped. The fire was rampaging on, his home, his kingdom. Burning down.

Madame Giry was searching for her daughter but there he was, whimpering in the chapel slowly becoming consumed by the fire. Her fingers ran through his sweaty hair and face, pausing on the deformed side. He really risked everything. My God, How could her carelessness begin all this? She thought.

"Antoinette," He moaned, as reality snapped. Suddenly the heat in the room was unbearable, angels painted on all around stared at the two. It was always like this when they were kids. Just Erik and Ann against the world," She was my world, everything. CHRISTINE!" And he continued sobbing and all that came out of his mouth was her name.

"Ann, when I die---"Erik! Nonsense!"----My music is over...it is too much, being rejected too much." his eyes closed and his face contorted to a one of pain." I loved her, Ann. Is love supposed to hurt?" He looked so lost.

"Why? WHY?" He took staggered breathes until he stopped. Madame Giry feared this was the end of him. His eyes closing, he whispered, "Ann, don't forget about us," Then she couldn't stop crying, him in her lap. All the screaming from the outside drowned out.

"Erik. Erik! I love you," Antoinette desperately yelled out, shaking him and hysterically crying. He smiled weakly.

((phirst phantom phic! fell in love with it all OVer again this summer when I met the Australian company of Phantom ! And LOVE this couple! Dont worry, I'm not killing off our Erik...maybe if you won't review... o.g won't be happy...Please review...for erik's sake

just give it a try, its more friendship then romance ... that's all i ask of you!

ps i own phantom :) too bad its in my dreams...))


	2. Chapter 1

"Straighter! Straighter!" The ballet mistress's strict voice called out, walking among the line of ballerinas.

Sixteen year old Antoinette obeyed her ballet mistress's words, along with the others. It had been two hours of rehearsals and all the girls were tired. They expected this. A lot.

_Erik must be so wondering where I am_. She wondered about her young thirteen year old friend. She looked up in hopes he was here. Little did she know Erik was busy practicing to play his organ, within a year of his residence at the opera house he had become quite a musician. Stealing sheet music and practicing with his best friend at the side. Of course, he took no criticism from anyone, not even from the older companion. Once, he rewrote an entire opera the night before and surprised everyone. It was juvenile, given his age, yet darker than the true tale of the performance. What a troublemaker he was, but still she looked forward to meeting him. He was like the little brother she never had. With Antoinette's care, he gained a few pounds on his bony body and he learned quickly. Reading, writing, music, everything else he absorbed like a sponge.

"Antoinette! On pointe! Pointe!" She suddenly looked back at her teacher, scowling at her . Her mind raced back, trying to keep time to the music. After another few minutes of prancing about, rehearsal was over and Antoinette hurridly raced down to Erik's place. It had always creeped her out and wondered how her teen friend could live down here.

"Erik? Erik, are you there?" She stepped onto the land after taking the "scenic" route and sure enough, she saw the white mask. It was still plastered on his face despite her telling him it was nonsense to wear it when he was stuck down, not that the sixteen year old wanted him to stay. He was not acknowledging her presence yet.

"I brought bread and another book for you," She started, setting the items next to the finally turned to face his only friend." I'm sorry I was so long." She added, thinking perhaps that she upsetted Erik.

"I barely noticed," He stubbornly told her and turned back to his organ. From his coming to the opera house, this was certainly the first moment Ann recalled his hostility to her.

"Erik. what's wrong?" Antoinette demanded with a little more audacity.

"Nothing," He replied, pushing his long _and messy _brown hair out of his face. With him being pulled by his hair all the time, his hair was,in some places, missing from the times with the gypsies and he was unsuccessfully trying to grow all his hair back to a natural state before he would cut and of course the deformity on the right side of his face didn't allow much hair to grow out. He was silent for a while, grabbing the thick book from his side.

"Isn't it awfully heavy on your face and doesn't it get sweaty?" Antoinette asked , trying to get him to talk.

"That's just it, isn't _Ann_?" He sneered, slamming the book on the floor as he stood up.

"What is it, Erik?" She stood up too, only a few inches taller than the young teen.

"So is this how the rest of my life is going to be?" Erik questioned.

"What?" She was confused.

"Antoinette," He began," For the past few months, I wonder if it was better I spent my life in prison for killing that son of a--"Erik" She did not tolerate him swearing, though he did it anyway.

"The point is, my life here isn't any better, it's sh--, um I mean sucks" He looked at her with those green eyes," I'm going to spend my whole life down here in the pits of hell."

"Erik, I understand," Ann tried to hug him.

"No, you don't! You don't understand anything!" Erik rampaged on, knocking over the basket of bread she brought," To you, I'm a pet, huh? Something you can keep and feed? You think I sit around like a stupid dog waiting for you to stop dancing about in whory outfits and living a LIFE? No, Ann, I don't think you understand!"

That brought the sixteen year old to the brink of tears," How could you say that? You're my friend, my best friend."

"Are you sure about that?" Erik didn't even look at her," Is that why you don't tell your _real_ friends about this?" He pulled off the mask he made after she insisted for him to stop wearing a sack on his head.

She didn't flinch," What do you want me to do? Rat you out?"

"NO!" Erik shouted," Why don't you see? Is this how the world is? I want to see the world and that people won't be frightened of who I am."

"I'm not!" Antoinette looked scared of her friend's behavior.

" I wish they could accept me, I could write music, build furniture, and so much more!" Erik told her.

"Better than others," She breathed out.

"Exactly," Erik muttered" But they are the ones with parents, with lives, with people who love them."

"Erik, I will always be here by your side," She told him, grabbing one of his hands even though he protested.

"Ann, I don't need your sympathy. I need your assistance." Erik simply told her, his eyes suddenly seem to burn into hers, as she closed her eyes.

"What do you mean?" She tried not to show denial before he even asked.

"Help me get known," He instructed her," Anything, or tell them death will find its way to them for the way they treat us. Like animals in cages." His face looked so menacing she winced.

"I will not threaten them for you!" She told him.

"One day you will learn to have a stronger heart, It'll suit you better," He rolled his eyes, "I am the Devil's Child, am I not? People fear my face,"

"Erik, please," She begged," No,"

"Then get OUT!" He fiercely shouted.

"Erik, you will starve," She tried to calm him down.

"Get OUT, you, you, woman!" He pointed to the the fastest route out of his lair," I don't need to eat. After all, I am a ghost living beyond the shadows of everyone!" He turned around, "Didn't you hear me? Get out!" His voice no longer sounded like a thirteen year old. It was too much for Antoinette to handle. His breakdown and denying their friendship.

The last thing she saw was his mask lying on the floor.

* * *

Antoinette awoke and got off the tiny, makeshift bed Erik had as he was designing the _most glorious_ bed fit for a king and his queen. She had raised her eyebrows suspiciously when he mentioned a _queen_. Her hair had been undone and she she slipped her shoes back on. She was quite hungry and was unsure where Erik was. She finally spotted the basket of bread she brought for the two of them. Looking inside, everything was gone, Erik ate all the bread.

_So much for being a ghost and not eating_. Antoinette thought.

"Finally, you're awake." His voice rang through the silent lair. He walked over.

"You ate all the bread, huh?" She questioned, a smile tugging at her he had forgot the nonsense.

"You're not as light as a feather, _mon cheri_," He sneered. Antoinette's lips pursed into a frown.

"What time is it?" She questioned, looking around the cold, dark place illuminated only by a few candles next to the bedside.

"Too dark for a mademoiselle to be awake." He said simply.

"Erik, will you take me back?" She questioned, it was quite scary walking through the routes at night even with Erik.

He turned to face her," How old are you?" He asked with a smirk," you know the ways. You overstayed my welcome." He looked away, giving her a smile full of sarcasm. And he turned away into the darkness of his kingdom.

(( Hey, what do you think of Erik? hahaha... sucks for Ann not to get the awesome swan bed to sleep on huh? yeah thanks for reading! ))


	3. Chapter 2

After a fearful journey around the dark opera house, she arrived at the entered back into the dorms and all the girls around her were sleeping soundly. Not really. The minute she quietly got into her bed after changing, the girls next to her sat up with wide grins plastered on their faces.

"Antoinette!" Lisette, the girl closest to her, giggled," Were you with a boy?"

"Oh, Lizzy, she doesn't have one!" Another voice rang in.

" She wouldn't! Where were you?" A third voice added in. Great.

"I'm really tired, can I go to sleep?" Ann let out a fake smile. Her action brought another round of giggles.

"Fine, Annie, but tomorrow tell us everything!" A voice she recognized as Gabrielle's chimed in.

"Who could it have been?" Ines asked with a girlish giggle.

"I wasn't with a boy! I was with nobody!" Ann let out, hoping it would shut them up.

"Sure you weren't, Annie!" Lisette motioned for the others to go to sleep. Well, at least these girls wouldn't rat you out like they did when they were younger. They wanted some time with their own beaus and understood the situation. Too bad it wasn't the same for Antoinette. She didn't let any boy just sweep her off her feet. When she was certain the girls were all asleep, the tears began to fall.

"Oh, Erik," She whispered, pulling on the blankets tighter as tears rolled down her cheek. She eventually dozed off, crying herself to sleep.

Meanwhile, Erik was already regretting leaving Ann to herself in the Opera house's dark halls. Who knows what's lurking around the corridors?

"Damn you, Ann." Erik hissed, plopping on his bed and placing the mask on the table next to the bed. It smelled like her. Her. Her hair ribbons on his bed picked up the two ribbons, fingering them. His fingering turned to shredding and he angrily threw the ribbons.

"Damn it, Ann!" He shouted,his best friend in the whole world was hurt because of him. He didn't like that. Grabbing the book Ann brought him, he continued where he left off. He couldn't sleep tonight. The nightmares would come. Of the woman that gave him away and the girl who saved him. Of the gypsies. Of his bed at the feet of everyone else. They always came. Damn.

* * *

With seeing Erik off her list, Ann had nothing better to do and took her time practicing her ballet. It had already been three weeks since she had saw him. She tried hard not to care, failing almost every night when she cried herself to sleep silently. He was just thirteen but every time she closed her eyes, she felt his presence. He was everywhere, the boy waiting for for his sweetheart to finish dancing, the mere movement of a rat. She danced and danced, her feet immune to the pain, in some extent. Her ballet shoes couldn't handle the pirouettes, pointes, but Antoinette just kept on pushing forth with extra practices. She danced to herself as the other raised their eyebrows for all the wrong reasons at how Ann became more secluded. She twirled, as night began to fall.

"Why, mademoiselle, are you here by yourself?" Ann let out a small whimper and moved to the other side, staring around the empty stage," It's not safe for a lady like you to be alone at this hour, is it?"

"Who's there?" She questioned, fear rising in her voice.

"Should it matter, my dear Antoinette?" She felt it whisper in her ear.

"Erik?" She muttered, hoping the thirteen year old was here.

"Who's Erik, _mon_ _fille_?" It hissed in her other ear. The voice then let out a laugh. A very evil laugh boomed out from one corner, then the other. Antoinette began to run off the stage, tripping over her own two feet and falling.

"My dear Annie, for a ballerina, you are pretty clumsy." He came out from behind the curtains, wearing his mask, and Ann sighed. He was dressed in a collared white shirt and black pants. His hair was combed so it didn't get in his face.

"And you are pretty human for a ghost." She stared at him as he scowled.

"Those shoes are quite worn out," Erik stated after a moment of silence as Ann looked at her feet.

"Yes, but I'm saving up for a new one right now." She told him, "I think I can get one after next week's performance,"

"And they can hold you up for that long?" Erik questioned, in his head he was already thinking of all the injuries related to ballet in concern. Ann could only smile. Erik was back.

"Erik, I missed you," She whispered, sitting up and smoothing her white tutu.

"Don't think I forgotten about my plan, I will _never _forget," Erik hissed, pulling Ann up with one hand.

"How did you do that?" She questioned, trying to switch the topic.

"What?" He looked annoyed.

"The talking, it came from everywhere," She muttered.

"Ventriloquism," He shrugged, starting to walk" Learned from the gypsies when they told fortunes for people."

"Why did you come here?" She asked, knowing they were going to his lair.

"I have my reasons," He told her," I must say you're better than the other girls, they scream like witches."

Letting out a chuckle, Ann looked at him.

"Antoinette, I apologize for my behavior three weeks prior," He breathed out. He didn't like to admit he was wrong. He never even apologized to his own mother. But this was Ann, his Annie.

"Oh, Erik!" She hugged her friend quite tearfully, who stiffened up.

"Ann, get off of me," He muttered," Come on" He led her down the stairs and they arrived at his lair. All Ann saw were candles. Woah.

"Erik, how did you get these candles?" She quesioned, it was much warmer in here. On higher land, she saw a bunch of wood where his makeshift bed was. To the left, there were rolls of fabric. Mostly black. Crumpled papers were scattered all over the floor, especially near his organ.

Erik used his time quite wisely when Ann was gone. In three weeks, he finished the sketch of the bed he was going to make, written music, designed four outfits for himself, and practically learned a new language.

"How else do you think?" Erik questioned," took me a long time to make them, stole some of them. Can you tell the difference?"

Ann could only shake her head, looking at the sketches of an elaborate cape and clothing. Sketches of ballerinas. Half written melodies, arias, songs. Opened books filled with drawings and words. "

"Renovation," He stated casually. He began singing something in French about change. The tone was so rich, his diction made the song perfectly understandable, and the tenor quality of his voice made him sound like an angel.

"What are you singing?" She questioned, astounded by his voice," I mean, how did you learn sing like that, like an _ange?"_

"It was from a German opera. _She walked on toes and he knew only of manners, for knowledge was man's defeated foe_. Rather funny no one has translated it yet," He shrugged again, after repeating the song's lines. He then smiled,"My singing compared to an angel's, my dear Annie? You are too kind," he walked to his organ." You see, I was growing tired of listening to the incomprehensible and off pitch singing that I tried to fix it. After a while, I tried to see if it sounded better. Singing the same song can certainly improve it. But what intrigued me was that line. What did it mean?"

"Never mind that,Erik, you sound perfect!" Antoinette clapped, referring to his singing.

"_Danke_," He told her in German."Thank you. Like I told you, I was bored." He grinned for the first time in a while," It is getting dark." Ann had no idea how he told time but believed him. She stood up as Erik walked closer to her. And he did something he refused to do so at her last visit.

He held out his hand, placing the other one behind his back," Shall I escort you, mademoiselle?"

Ann smiled, weaving her arm through his, "You may, Monsieur Destler."

(( Yeahh...it's not much...kinda filler chappy.... well uh...reviews make me happy? what do you guys think of this couple really? And uh...the quote Erik was talking about was totally made up...))


	4. Chapter 3

"This is as far as I should go," He nodded solemnly to the sixteen year old girl.

"Thank you!" She told him. With him, she could be herself, she didn't have to impress anyone or have shallow conversations about all the men in the Opera Populaire. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He turned away, color flushing into his cheeks, hair falling into his eyes. With a nod, he ran away. Returning to her bed, Ann pulled the blankets back, she snuggled in feeling much more happier than she was in weeks.

"Good night, Annie," A whispered filled her ears and she smiled. Erik's musical treble filled her ears, taking her away to a world of dreams.

She wandered the darkness of his world, calling for him.

"Follow me," Erik's voice kept ringing.

"Erik?" She whispered, walking through an endless field. Eerie music was ringing, the clashing of cymbals, sinister laughing. She arrived in front of a faded red tent. A painted sign stood in front and she gasped

"The Devil's Child!" A voice rang as a man came out and the Gypsy's eyes stared into hers. She walked in with the ghosts of her memories. A small boy was turning away from the rest, sitting in a cage. Grabbing her stomach and one of the cage bars, she whispered his name.

"Turn around, boy! Turn around!" The gypsy grabbed his whip and forcefully turned him around. And what Ann saw was nothing like the boy she thought she saw. His nose were simply holes, maggots crawling in and out of his mouth, and his bony fingers feebly tried to cover the skeletal face. She screamed, her hand reaching inside and calling for him.

"You dare to be the Devil's assistant?" he gypsy suddenly turned to the devil himself. She shook her head with fear as everyone around left with no notion about her.

"But you are assisting the boy?" He gave a clownish frown, his long fingers touching her shoulders and sending chills down her spine.

"No, not him," She fearfully turned to look once more at the boy.

"Assist the boy who will be the eternal ruler?" He smiled like the Cheshire cat.

"Eternal ruler?" Ann asked.

"Ay, isn't that what Erik means?" He brought the boy closer to him. His hands opening and closing over his shoulders.

"Erik, this isn't you!" She screamed, waving her hands in front of the boy whose yellow cat-like eyes stared blankly.

"Erik was never who you thought," He finally spoke out in his monotonous voice.

"Erik hungers for flesh," He began to walk towards her as she slowly stepped back," Do not fear Erik."

She closed her eyes but the image of the monster before her still filled her mind.

"Erik, please understand," She whimpered, her hands over her mouth," I am your friend,"

"Erik has no friends," He spoke out in his monotonous voice.

"Erik!" She fell at his feet, crouching and unable to look at him.

"This one not worthy to be of your assistance," The voice she recognized as the Gypsy's added in," Erik?"

Ann heard a hissing sound and a minute later she fell into a hole as maggots buried her. She screamed, muffled by the maggots, falling deeper and deeper into the hole.

"Annie, Annie, Annie" She heard, as a slap appeared on her face,"Antoinette!"

"What?" She awoke with at least ten ballet girls surrounding her. She sat up from the hard floor.

"You were screaming!" Ines was sitting closest to her.

"What time is it?" Antoinette asked, her eyes closing in confusion.

"Annie, it's morning," Lisette laughed out. When she reopened her eyes, Ann noticed already half the girls were changing in the usual ballerina outfit.

"Thank you," Antoinette nodded to the girls as she stood up.

"Annie, you must have had a horrid dream!" Gabrielle looked genuinely frightened, as she always does.

"Horrible," She nodded, as the girls looked at her. Trying to forget, she proceeded to changing into her tutu. Rehearsal did not go smoothly for all she saw was the rotting face in her dreams. The younger dancers were shocked to see the usual star of the show get yelled by the ballet mistress several times.

"Boys distracting you, Annie?" Lisette whispered, giggling when she made eye contact with the men watching from the side. They were making inappropriate actions that made all the older girls blush and the younger ones confused.

"Oh my God, it's him!" Ines squealed as she twirled by. Eyes turned to see a blue eyed, blond man. His dark blond hair brought such contrast to his startling blue eyes. He was tall, had the cutest dimples and was well-mannered with the women of the opera house. The only flaw? He was the son of their ballet mistress.

"No talking!" The instructor shouted at their direction.

"_Mere_," He walked towards his mother, smiling that dimply smile as the girls began giggling and batting their eyelashes at him ferociously.

"Alexandre, what makes you believe you can interrupt my rehearsal?" She walked up to him with a serious expression, at least a head shorter than her son.

"Just wanted to say hello to my maman," He winked, pulling his reluctant mother into a hug.

"If he hugged me like that, I'd stop breathing," Antoinette heard a voice behind her exclaim.

When was the last time I've seen you girls?" He walked towards the ballerinas, who stood up straighter than they ever had during a rehearsal.

"Lisette, Ines, Gabrielle," He listed each girl that were around his age, causing shrieks of joy. Then he faced Ann and he let out a smirk," And Antoinette." He fingered her red hair, twirling a strand, as she dared not to stare in his eyes.

"Alexandre, you have already cut into their time too much," She walked towards him, grabbing him from the arm. As Alexandre walked away, he gave a smile to his mother and the ballerinas. The instructor turned back to her students," Extra thirty minutes of rehearsal!" She sharply told them, eyeing Antoinette.

With the nightmare still in her mind, Antoinette decided not to stay all by herself for extra practice.

"I say he is simply gorgeous!" Lisette sighed, doing a simple twirl.

"He seems to take a liking on you, Annie!" Gabrielle stared enviously at Antoinette.

"He's too absorbed in himself, the only reason he was here was to show his friends how much the girls liked him," Ann simply put out.

"Harsh words, Ann" Lisette gasped.

"But you have to admit he is cute," Ines followed from behind them.

"Drop-dead cute," Gabrielle sighed.

"Not at all," Ann smiled. They stared at their friend. With Ann's long red hair, dark blue eyes, and slim ballerina figure, they would have men falling at their feet. But they knew Ann wasn't that kind of girl.

And as the girls walked back to their dorms, a pair of eyes watched from the shadows.

(HEY! first of all, I would like to thank my reviewers,

IamthePhantomoftheOpera, lizzieakin, MyFriendAskedMeToDoThis --Thank you for motivating me to continue! Keep on reviewing! Thanks so much!!!

What do you readers think of Ann and Erik's relationship though??

And school's starting so update may be slower...let's hope not...

Thanks for reading!)


	5. Chapter 4

Erik was carving the bed frame, which was now resembling a headless chicken. Moving backwards to look at his masterpiece, he bumped into his glass of wine.

"Shit!" He cursed, ripping off his shirt to wipe the floor. Luckily, newspapers scattered the floor and Erik picked up the one that received the most damage. It was from a month ago and mentioned something about the birth of a vicompte De Chagny. Crumpling it up, he threw it into the lake. He tried not to do that. Littering the lake. The last time he did his business in the lake, it stank so horribly, he stole a woman's perfume and sprayed it all over the place. He had to find a way to keep the water running. Sighing, he went back to carving his bed. He decided it was time that ballet time should be over. Meanwhile, Antoinette was already preparing to go to bed, she was tired, with that dream, Alexandre's interest, and from dancing. Again, she entered the dark realms of her dreams.

"Annie, Annie," She turned at the sound of _his_ voice. His hands were cold until the violence of it all woke her up. She screamed, only seeing white , well she couldn't really tell what it was in the dark. A hand went over her lips as she tried to scream.

"My dear, you will surely wake the others up," She became fully awake, hearing her friend's melodic voice.

"Erik! how did you get in here? What time is it?" She looked around in the dormitory.

"So many questions," Erik shook his head, with a slight smirk on his face.

"Erik, what are you doing here?" She asked, sitting up, as Erik frowned.

"You didn't come," He simply put out.

"Erik, I'm so sorry! I was so tired!" She rubbed her eyes.

"That's not a good explanation," He looked menacing.

"Please, what do you want?" She questioned.

"Come on!" Erik motioned towards the closed door.

"Erik, you can't be serious," Antoinette looked at friend and cautiously around the room.

"Ann, you seem really distant lately and I feel, that, you are hiding something from me," He looked solemnly at his friend.

"It's nothing," She remembered her dream, and a shiver ran down her spine.

"Promise," He looked three instead of thirteen for once.

"I always keep my promises," She smiled at the boy.

"Sleep tight," He smiled and disappeared into the darkness.

The next day, Ann went straight to Erik's after rehearsal. Or at least she attempted to.

"Annie, your feeble attempts to ignore me are not pleasing me," Alexandre stood in front of her.

"Leave me alone," She muttered. She tried to walk around the boy.

"Very well, you leave me no choice but to dance," She kept time to herself as she twirled and least it would bore him and benefit her for tomorrow''s performance. She ignored Alexandre's wolf whistling and dimply smirks.

Then her shoes finally betrayed her as she fell to the floor. A sharp pain stayed in her ankle as Alexandre briskly walked over. He put his hands out.

"Never knew I could come in handy?" Alexandre carried the petite ballerina up in his arms. Through giving up protests, she let him carry her. They arrived at the door of the ballet mistress.

"Why are we here?" She asked.

"Well, mother knows best," He smiled.

"No, Alexandre," she growled, "If this some attempt to stop me from dancing tomorrow, I will kill you," Placing a finger at her ankle, she whimpered in pain.

"You can't be serious," He shook his head with a grin.

"The show must go on," She tried to let herself out of Alexandre's grip. Being much bigger than her, he carried her into the room. To Ann's fortune, the ballet mistress was not in the room.

"Just lay down," He instructed, carrying her on to the armchair.

"He went down on his knees to inspect the ankles. Slowly taking off the battered shoes, his blue eyes met hers. He stood up and walked to her mother's organized drawers. Digging through the first one, he pulled out cloth bandages.

He inspected her ankle once again," minor sprain."

Bandaging it up, his lips found their way to her hand.

Ann was somewhat between discomfort and ease." New shoes will be needed and I know no one can perform in new ones. Because performance is the day after tomorrow, you must withdraw. Mother can rearrange the routine at bullet speed."

"No!" Ann was horrified at his suggestion.

"Or you must borrow shoes," Ann sighed, looking up. These girls just didn't have excessive shoes hanging around and she wasn't even sure who wears her size. Alexandre inspected her shoes.

"Why should I trust you?" She suddenly became defensive.

"Annie, I am studying to become a doctor," He smirked.

"Ohh..." She realized, turning crimson.

"How lovely you are when you blush," He was still on his knees and stroking her hair," I enjoyed the lovely show you put on just for me,"

" Your presence seems to bring me misfortune, those shoes held me up for a while already," She tried to yank his hand away.

"Or my prescence brings nervousness," His expression returned to the carefree dimply smile.

"Antoinette, what are really afraid of?" He looked at her," You seem so scared of something,"

Her mind immediately danced to thoughts of Erik. She wasn't scared of him! Or any other thing! Why was she so cautious?

"My career as a ballerina is very important now, it is my only concern."

"Well, then you must try to suck up to the ballet mistress's son." His face was now directly in front of her and he smelled amazing.

"Alexandre, please " She closed her eyes as his lips suddenly was on hers. There was a sudden fierceness and passion of the kiss as Alexandre's arms found their ways around her waist and she moaned in , she hated to admit it but he was perfect. He kissed her as she almost slid down the armchair.

Then, the door slammed open and a gasp followed. Ann and Alexandre immediately broke apart.

"How dare you!" The ballet mistress hissed at the two.

"Maman! I was bandaging her ankle!" He tried to start.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Alexandre!" She started towards her son with a stern expression.

Antoinette looked genuinely scared as she stood up, smoothing her tutu.

"Please, Madam--

"Antoinette, you surely understand I do NOT tolerate this behavior and in my room?" Her instructor looked disappointed.

"Maman! It was my fault!" Alexandre raised his hand, looking at the redhead next to him.

"Yes, it is a part. You will not come and interrupt my classes again! Those girls are to study here, not to play around!" She gave her son a smack on the arm.

"Please, it wasn't her fault," Alexandre rubbed his arm," it was mine."

"You seem to be enjoying it," She looked at the sixteen year olds.

"Antoinette, please leave," She placed one hand on her head, the other waving it away. A loud sigh filled the room.

Silently, she exited the room. As the door closed, she ran back through dark hallways, careful to ignore anyone.

With tears in her eyes, she rushed into the room, the pain in her ankle numb from the pain. It was getting dark and she crawled into the bed, trying to fall asleep. Her eyes tried to shut close, but her mind wouldn't.

"She promised," Erik whispered, stepping out of the shadows of the room and leaving. Giving Antoinette one last look, he returned to his lair.

A/N for the long time no update! School...High School...Freshmen... Put it together?? I hoped you liked this chappie and if you're interested in humor, check out our fanfic

What's Worse than Phantom of Manhattan? by Kill Otto. It's me and my best buddies shared account!


	6. Chapter 5

"Antoinette, please, I understand you have a minor sprain and I assume you have _perfected_ your part ready for tomorrow's performance." The ballet mistress refused to look at the sixteen year old as Antoinette refused to look at her. She seemed to look slightly embarassed. With a wave of her hand, she smiled weakly"Why don't you take the afternoon off to rest?"

The other girls were confused, looking from their instructor to their fellow ballerina. Since when did she allow such rewards? Or discipline, for whatever this was.

'Please, Antoinette, you are excused." She turned away, ushering the girls to dance. Confused and a bit hurt, Antoinette stepped out of the stage. She sat outside the door, crouched into a ball, and broke down. She began to cry, sniffling, as she heard the shuffling of ballerinas and the teacher's shoutings to furthermore increase their dancing. Boys are evil. They could ruin everything even if you didn't care a bit about them. But she knew _he_ would never.

"Erik," She hoarsely whispered out his name," I'm sorry," Crying, she ripped off her badly conditioned shoes. And she sat outside, too scared to make a peep.

"Annie," She heard a sigh enter her left ear.

"Erik?" She wiped her red eyes.

"Look up," She looked up to find Erik; his blue eyes looked almost pleading.

Smiling, she stood up.

"Last one down is a rotten egg!" She started running, looking up at Erik, who seemed to smile back from above. Holding her shoes, she ran through cold halls, breaking into laughter as Erik's shadows danced from wall to wall.

"You can't escape the grasp of the ghost!" He tried to sound scary.

"Please! You are no ghost!" Antoinette laughed, looking up on instinct. His treble voice sent no chills or fright about her.

"If I wasn't, can I do this?" His whisper jumped from one ear to the other.

Heading for the quickest route to his lair, she pranced down the stairs with the grace and agility any ballerina should possess within them. If they were up to it, that is. Erik followed her, whispering monstrous thoughts.

"_Meifiez-vous de l'opera fantome!"_ It entered her left ear. Beware the opera ghost.

"_Avor peur de mort!"_ It came from her right. Fear death!

"_Le lune briller avec toi"_ And he was whispering in front of her with a solemn expression. Antoinette halted as the thirteen year old walked towards her."Annie, you broke your promises," His face looked as if a knife was stabbing him.

"I'm sorry!" Tears started to trickle down her cheeks as she stared at the boy," Erik, I am so sorry!" And she pulled him into a deathly hug.

"Annie, that's not the point. Get the freak off of me!" _Mon Dieu!"_ He struggled out of her grasp, adding in another language,"_ Women_…"

"Look here, I'm mad at you but I want to show you something." Erik folded his arms.

"I would love to see it," Antoinette smiled warmly, but hesitated, "It is appropriate, right? No dead rats on a stick?"

"Nothing of that sort," Erik shook his head. He had already begun leading the way.

"Erik, where are we going?" Antoinette questioned the teenager, who was walking through a hall and entering a room.

"Shh…" He pulled open the mirror in the room, and then bowed curtly," After you, mademoiselle."

Antoinette walked in cautiously until Erik pushed her further in," Don't be a _bebe_!" Antoinette let out a whimper as she looked around the dark corridor.

"I find this route faster; this opera house sure has its own secrets." He smiled, walking behind her in a very stalker like way.

They arrived at his lair, revised in its own glory.

"Erik! This is amazing!" Antoinette looked at the amount of renovation Erik did. There was the swan bed that he worked so hard to carve, the organ moved to another location behind candles and other assorted goods he possessed. There was a magical feeling about it, as she turned around hearing the sound of water. Looking into the lake, she saw a wondrous fountain.

"It's not much but I wanted you to see," He looked down, tugging on his white collared shirt. His lanky hair fell over his eyes. Suddenly he was that little boy who just wanted to show his mother that drawing he created.

With a smile, she warmly stood closer to him. "I think it's nice." Walking towards the bed and touching the smoothed wood, she looked inside and saw no mattresses or blankets.

"Erik, where are you sleeping?" She asked, confused, as Erik came out from a storage room he created.

"Um…In the coffin," He finally let out as he looked at her and the bed she was standing in front of.

"Erik, what is the point of," She pointed to the swan bed, "This?"

"It was never meant for me! I was born a dead child!" Erik waved his hands.

"That doesn't mean anything, Erik. We talked about this. You are no monster!" Antoinette suddenly got defensive, "Please, you've been through enough!

"It's for you!" He let out, his furious expression looked juvenile.

"What?"

"Ann, I need you at my side. You never come to visit me anymore so I'm keeping you down here!" He stomped to the side of the lake, pushing the boat a little off the side.

"No!" Her eyes opened in horror," Please, there's…it's just that...Well…there"

"Spit it out! _En venir au fait!_ "He looked at her with flame in his eyes.

"Alexandre," she whimpered out. Erik's mouth gaped open slightly as he put two and two together. She was seeing this man! He was the reason why! Assuming he was right, he grabbed the sixteen year old by her arm, pushing her into one of the passageways.

"Erik, no!" Antoinette tried to fight against his pushing. Something had strengthened the boy even though he was fighting against a petite ballerina," Please, you don't understand."

He smiled," Don't worry Annie, he will have to pay." And he continued leading her back to her room, ideas swirling aound his head.

* * *

HEY everybody! sorry no post long time! gahhhh....its called school and the wonderful work we get.....

Well... updates...i hope you won't turn away becuz of slowness! but reviews make me very very happy :)

thanks for reading.!


	7. Chapter 6

"Brava!" The crowds stood up with polite claps and smiles for the ballerinas on their performing night. The prima ballerina smiled, gathering the flowers thrown on the stage. The teenagers pranced around, trying anything to catch the attention of any well suited gentlemen. The younger ones tried to suppress the elation they felt on their presumed first performances in front of the rich Parisians. Antoinette smiled as warmly as she could, the pain in her feet painful and her head dizzied with everything that had occurred. Ushered off the stage by the ballet mistress, the flirtatious teens waved off to the crowds. Antoinette brushed against Alexandre as tried to apologize, then realizing it was only her.

"Ann,"

Suddenly all the anger she had was regained as she walked off as fast as she could.

"Ann----

"Don't you dare call me Ann again, you three headed dog!" She paused to give him a sneering look.

"You were wonderful tonight." He called out as Ann started out on a run to the dormitories. She swore she could see him smirk that dimply smirk of his.

Upon entering the dorm rooms, she saw a huge parcel on her bed. Confused, she looked at the plain brown box on the bed, only sealed with a red ribbon. With confusion, she shook the box and heard a light sound inside the box. Slowly undoing the ribbon, she opened. A gasp escaped her mouth as she pulled out the beautiful black ballet shoes. Brand new ballet shoes in her exact size. Her excitement started as she practically ripped off her old ones and began prancing around the room in her new shoes. Sighing, she proceeded to throw away the box as a note fell out. In an elaborate cursive, it read:

"My dearest Antoinette,

You were surely a sight to see tonight. You clearly out shined the other girls in skill and in beauty. I am looking forward to see you dance in the new shoes which you so undoubtedly require. My dearest compliments to you.

The anonymous letter made her blush and confusion spread. Who could have sent this? Her toes made little flutters against the wooden floor. She was numb to the pain of wearing new shoes yet she couldn't complain. Everything was falling in place.

Meanwhile, Alexandre stood nervously outside girls' room and cautioned himself. He needed to talk this over with Antoinette. Clearing his throat, he silently hoped no one else was inside. He hesitated and then took a sigh, knocking on the door.

Antoinette opened the door with a wide grin that quickly faded when she saw Alexandre.

"It's you," She whispered.

"Let me explain, look. I'm leaving!" He blurted out.

"What?" She opened the door further, as Alexandre ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, I'm going back to the school, and I hope you got my note," He winked, referring to a note he instructed his mother to give to her after he left.

Looking down at her shoes, she cursed herself. He sent it! After all, he was the only one to have noted the conditions of her shoes. Her reluctance sank in and she tried to think, was he that bad? He vied for her attention and forced herself to look at him. Really, what bad was it for his persistence to be some kind suitor, why should he deserve such hostility?

"He's arrogant and vain!" She thought.

"Annie?" His voice rang out softly in concern," I'll really miss you,"

Closing her eyes that filled with tears, she walked up to him, and her lips softly fluttered against his. Taken back and somewhat enjoying it, he pulled her with a gentle force. She was startled at the perplexity of it all. When his lips parted from hers, he could only boyishly smile.

"So that means I'm taking you out to supper tonight." He took one of her hands, as she suddenly felt it was all right.

"Why not?" She did a flimsy tip on her toe.

"Well, take your time. I will be right here," He bowed curtly. With a beam, she closed the door. Changing into her dress she reserved for special events, she felt a sudden guilt. What about Erik? Oh well, if he really did care, he would have came right? Dashing out, she took notice of a bouquet of red roses on her drawers. Telling herself she would take care of all this later she rushed out the room.

* * *

"I really want to see Amsterdam, Rome, Berlin," Alexandre listed out a few of the places he wanted to visit. They sat across each other in the crowded restaurant. Sipping champagne slowly, she listened to the vanity of his words," What plans do you have?"

"Well, um, I just, well, I have no clue," She laughed.

"And another thing I really want," He stared intently in her eyes; the startling blue gave her goose bumps." Not now," He chuckled softly as she attempted to ask him exactly what. "You were quite a spectacle tonight,"

"Thank you," She smiled.

"Antoinette, remember how I told you I was heading back to medical school?" He continued," I am leaving next Saturday."

"Ohh," She was confused at how she felt about this.

"Would you like to accompany me?" He blurted out.

"What?"

"Yeah, I mean, I know," Alexandre took one of her hands, "Exactly what I want."

"Excuse me!"

"No, Annie," Alexandre went on," I can't spare to leave you." He looked as if he was truly in pain.

"What makes you think I would leave everything behind," Ann retorted.

"All you have is shelter and food. I can give you those as a husband." He stated.

"Alexandre, just leave me alone, please." Antoinette told him.

"I'm truly sorry, _mon cheri_," He stated.

Ann looked at him.

A/N OKAY...Long time no update... School has been hectic and so much writing! I am trying hard to update and this is a shorter chapter but I hope you'll like it... Thanks to my reviewers, for you motivate me! Thanks for reading...)


	8. Chapter 7

"Happy Birthday, Annie," Alexandre murmured softly into her ears. Two weeks had past and the two fell in a whirlwind romance, despite all odds. She sat stiffly on the bed, as Alexandre leaned in, kissing her softly on the cheek. Today, she would be seventeen years old. A ballet rat she was, she was teased for still being a virgin. Well, maybe, she didn't want to be one anymore… Alexandre adored her, yet, she couldn't tell if he really did love her.

"Ann, Ann?" Antoinette jumped at his voice and she found his blue eyes staring at him. He was holding out a tiny box," A present for _mon cheri,"_

Accepting it with a smile, she carefully unwrapped the tiny box. It was a piece of paper that looked like a business card simply stating his status as doctor.

"Aren't you so proud of me? I am a doctor!" He stated as she looked at it with a slight smile hiding her disappointment.

"Yes, Alex, I am so glad you are a doctor," She blinked back. That's all he could really get her? For a man who gave her new ballet shoes for no apparent reason other than he liked her, how could he get her a simple card for her seventeenth birthday?

"I have to go, I'll see you tonight," Alexandre suddenly stood up, as she hastily joined him.

"_Bon Anneviersaire,"_ He muttered and kissed her softly. Looking quickly on her bed and to the man walking out, she called out his name.

"Alexandre!" She called, as he turned around. Suddenly she was speechless," Um, I was thinking that uh…Never mind," She turned red as Alexandre let out a confused chuckle.

"I love you, Ann," He told the new seventeen year old and nodded, walking out the room.

Nodding to herself, she started out to below the cellars of the opera house.

* * *

"Erik?" Her voice echoed throughout the black lake, "Erik? Erik, are you here? Where-----AHHHHHHH!"

Looking down, a web was forming as a gigantic spider crawled over the surface of the ground. She rushed into the renovated castle floors below the stage. Everything seemed so desolate and cold without Erik there, as a kingdom without its king or planet without its sun would be. Suddenly, it was only the tomb of boy pharaoh like in those exotic tales those stagehands told the ballet girls between bottles of alcohol. The light upon the candles flickered softly, the silence deafening to her. She walked slowly, discovering the venue more closely as she never had the opportunity to see. Her fingers traced the keys of the organ, the litter of paper she had provided him with crumpled all over. The sheets of music looked frightening to Ann. She was not skilled at the art Erik was simply talented at. The music simply danced from one note to the next with deafening scales. She looked down and opened up the several crumbled music. It was written in a tongue she didn't comprehend, until she realized he had written that song entirely in German. Another one told a naïve yet haunting tale of a young woman that was buried alive and now haunts her ex-fiancé who killed her to marry another woman. The one next to it was just the music. Sighing, she walked to his bookshelf that had no books on it. The books were scattered on the floor and open to specific pages, all devoted to their own field. Medical, unusual punishments, the laws of technicalities, it was all there. A section hidden only behind a flimsy cloth curtain laid his inventions. Then a single tune danced and Antoinette turned to see a figurine of the same monkey that Erik held on to so tightly when he was only the Devil's Child stuck in a cage. It played on for a short period, its symbols clashing together, and she had to put her head down in requiem of something she didn't know of, perhaps the death of a genius that the world lost because of man's hatred and fear. Sketchpads were the locations of drawings of people, of the ballerinas, of architectural designs, and of her. This was utopia. The closest he had to it in the living world. Ann shook her head, it was her birthday and she already felt more sympathy for the young thirteen year old. She had wanted to clean up the place but then she thought about how he was thirteen. What a horrid temper tantrum that would be. Sighing, she headed to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Erik stood among wooden beams, looking down on the man who had interrupted Ann's career and life for the past two weeks. Alexandre, he thought, be satisfied you know nothing of me!

"Why, where are you headed, messier?" Erik boomed out, determined to sound as frightening as he possibly could without straining his boyish voice. Treble tenor, he preferred it to be called.

"Who's that voice?" Alexandre jumped a little, startled.

"My dear greetings to you, Alexandre," His voice was filled with sarcasm.

"Show yourself," He looked around.

"I'd be delighted to!" He laughed a hearty laugh, "If a ghost could show itself," He pounded the wooden beams, as Alexandre looked up in alarm. Alexandre glanced at the door and headed for it.

"What manners," Erik scoffed, as Alexandre paused.

"What business do you call forth with me?" Alexandre added ferocity to his tone.

"Oh, you know exactly what I call you for. Today is Antoinette's seventeenth birthday," He hissed.

"Yes, I know. " Alexandre impatiently gazed in the region of the room.

"What businesses do _you_ have with her?" Erik suddenly grew possessive and angry with the man.

"She is soon to be my bride," He chuckled at his own thoughts.

"Lies! She will not leave this opera house!" Erik's eyes grew wide open with the reality of Ann growing up.

"Why should it matter to you, ghost?" He sneered, uncertain of what to address this person.

"She is on her way to become a star. I have seen her inevitable progress. She WILL be prima ballerina and nothing shall interfere with her. Not even you. Those shoes you have gave her, correct?" Erik growled, not revealing the real reasons of his attachment to the ballerina.

"Yes, I have given her those shoes!" He uncertainly boasted.

"Really, what size shoes were they? What ladies' store did you dare step in to purchase those shoes?" He questioned as Alexandre grew uncomfortable, hesitant to answer for he did not have the answers.

"Once again, you have lied to me. This means only one thing." Erik tried to sound powerful, "You have defied the devil's work!"

"What?" Alexandre grew startled.

"The shoes were set as a trap for those who are selfish and claim to be the owner," Erik hid the laughter in his voice.

"Poor Alexandre, I am the ghost that he sent forward to haunt you for the rest of your life if you will not tend what is right," And he let out a sardonic laugh.

"I love her!" Alexandre let out.

"If you love her, you WILL make sacrifices!" Erik shouted thinking of all he had sacrificed and all for nothing.

"There is none to make!" Alexandre's eyes followed Erik's dancing voice.

"Very well, Messier, if you ever hurt her," Erik viciously whispered in his ear," You will pay," And he dropped a note rimmed in black on the floor. With a pound on the wooden beams, Erik walked away.

Alexandre cautiously picked up the letter and his eyes grew wide at the sight of the blood used as ink. As a doctor, he could smell the essence of blood on the paper. Written in a cursive, Alexandre read to himself the note he believed Lucifer himself had written. He was damned now! He believed, as he sat himself down with ragged breaths.

* * *

Erik angrily walked down to his lair to the smell of something horrid to his nose.  
"What the shi----Ann!" His disposition changed as she came into view.

"Erik, where were you?" She smiled weakly. Suddenly she became the lady of the lake, Nimue, in those British tales about King Arthur.

"I was, what the hell are you doing here, Ann?" Erik sounded more hostile than he wanted to.

"Erik, I came to see you," Ann sounded really hurt.

"Yes, I know, why are you cooking this crap? Not implying that you cook like crap, it's just I don't eat crap," Erik tried to lighten the mood.

"Erik, it's just that, well---"Ann started.

"I don't want to hear it, Ann. Don't think you can ditch me for a week and make up for it with food that I won't even eat," Erik growled. She grew silent as Erik grabbed her hand and led her to the organ. Placing himself down, he looked through the music.

The chord began the music and his fingers seem attached to every key. He played on, a crescendo following a silence, through sharps and flats, up the scale and a major drop, and ended the song turning to her.

Erik simply turned away from the girl, playing the music he had worked weeks on just for her.

"Happy Birthday, Annie," He whispered. She went towards him with the strength of a boa constrictor.

"Oh, Erik! You didn't forget!" She cried out. Uncomfortable with the physical contact, Erik wheezed out,

"Yes, of course I would remember the day of your birth," Erik muttered.

"That song was beautiful," She patted his head, kissing him softly there.

"Didn't need to give that to you, I smother you with presents every day," Erik broke off from the hug.

"Thank you, Erik," She grinned at him.

"I am sorry I called your cooking crap. It's just that, well come with me." Erik lead the way behind a door and in it was a vast dining table, enough to seat at least ten people and decorated with fine china. On the table was a feast of biscuits, peas, carrots, and other delicious food.

"Did you make this, Erik?" She asked as he pulled out his chair.

"Do you doubt that I made it?" A smile spread across his masked face.

"No," She stated, taking a napkin as Erik sat opposite of her.

After dinner, Ann was jealous. Erik had only eaten half a biscuit accompanied with some assorted cheese and sipped mostly on his wine. She pretty much ate everything and was prepared for a huge stomachache.

"I am stuffed. Thank you for the feast." She sat back, patting her stomach.

"Well, you didn't eat my special cake yet!" He laughed.

"There's cake?" Ann questioned with anxiety.

With a jovial laugh, Erik shook his head no as she immediately relaxed.

Then that familiar tune played once more and she looked at the monkey clapping its symbols together. Erik stood up briskly.

"Do you want to go back now," Erik questioned, sobering up.

Ann didn't want to; she would stay down here with him as long as she could.

"Play me more," She whispered.

"No, it's too dark for your ears," He walked away," Birthday girl, here's your gift." He handed her a box.

She opened it up to find a beautiful necklace, decorated with colorful hues of jewels.

"Gypsies, they had a real eye for jewelry," He told her as she fingered the necklace. Suddenly, she noticed an inscription on the necklace it read _Madeleine_. Not wanting to question him any further, she expressed gratitude towards him once more. Nodding, Erik stood still.

"Erik, can you help me put it on?" She held it out, as Erik took it.

Pulling her hair out of his way, his fingers brushed against her bare neck, causing shivers down her spine. God, his touch would trick anyone that he was merely thirteen.  
"Done," He stood back as she examined the necklace hanging heavily, "Maybe, you'll remember to come visit me more,"

Ann laughed as Erik could only smile at his own stupidity for admitting he was lonely to this girl who actually had a life instead of tending after him. Then her eyes opened wide.

"_Mon Dieu_!" She exclaimed, "Alexandre is meeting me tonight."

"Right," Erik rolled his eyes.

"Erik, can you take me back? I'm late for meeting him!" Ann looked at him.

"Yes,"

"I'm sorry, but you don't mind, right?" Ann smiled.

"Of course not," He turned around, as he closed his eyes.

"Thank you for everything!" She laughed, walking ahead of him.

"Happy Birthday," He whispered.

AN Haha sorry long time no update... you know why..grrr

lemme take time to thank my awesome reviewers for turkey day : You guys are awesome!

haha....so tell me whatdyathink?? :)


	9. Chapter 8

"Here is your second gift," Erik hissed, following his best friend, determined. Alexandre came into view for the new seventeen year old and the sight of the thirteen year old disappeared. Shrugging with little worry for Erik knew his ways around the opera house. She hurried to meet her beloved with a kiss.

"Where were you? I was beginning to worry you stood me up," His blue eyes twinkled with a certain humor and slight annoyance.

"Oh, catching up with some friends," She could only tell him that much now.

"Be more aware of your time in the future, Antoinette," He smirked.

"Yes, Alex, I will." She nodded her head.

"_Dieu Merci!_ I'm starving!" Alexandre instinctively rubbed his stomach.

"Oh," That was all Ann could let out. She already had such a feast at Erik's and who eats a dinner at nearly nine thirty in the night, she had to wonder? Immediately, he sensed an objection.

"Is there a problem, Ann?" He questioned a little coldly than she had expected.

"It's just that, well, I have already eaten," She whispered out.

"You have?" The words came out as a scold after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, but I can still sit at your side," She hesitantly smiled at the boy.

"Very well," He shrugged, grabbing his overcoat and hat before opening the door for the birthday girl.

Dinner was quiet; the sound of Alexandre's chewing and gulping overwhelmed the romantic atmosphere of the table they sat at.

"Ann?" He started, after taking another sip of his wine as she slipped out of her thoughts.

"Yes?" She looked up from counting the number of cracks in the table.

"What is it you want to tell her?" A sudden voice rang out in a whisper near his ear. He scratched at his ear and continued on.

"Ann—"

"Don't be shy, say, whatever is it?" the voice continued to dance from one ear to the other.

Alexandre swatted at his ears.

"Whose is that voice?" He murmured, annoyed.

"Whose is that voice?" It mimicked Alexandre.

"Shut it!" Alexandre stood up. He was never very patient. Ann stood up along with him.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, concerned, as he turned to face him.

"You! This is not funny!" Alexandre continued to hit his ears.

"I am not doing anything," She looked confused and scared for him," Please, Alexandre, you're frightening me," She bit her lower lip as he looked at her maniacally.

Some evil laughing started coming out of either side of his ears.

"Frightening _you?_" He questioned, pointing at himself.

Ann could only nod.

_Keep scaring her and you will pay, _the voice rang through his ears again.

Alexandre yelled out another curse.

Then he turned to Antoinette.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me. " And he went out the room with hidden fear and anger.

Ann stood there, allowing the attitude of this man to sink in. Shaking her head, she began to clean up the table.

At the same time, Erik was laughing silently at the success of his actions.

A/N: Kay… (YAY! Susan Kay rules!) I know this was short and it was winter break so it should be longer but eh…there's not much to write here and I have a tiny bit o' writer's block. Haha...but YOU (does the Uncle Sam) have the ability to fix up my disease here. If you really do like it, I want to know! Cough*review*cough… Well, there will be a time warp in the next chapter…see you all in a bit. Hope you enjoyed the holidays and have a happy 2010!


	10. Chapter 9

"His name is Jules," The girls around Antoinette were keeping their eyes on the new violinist in the opera house. Twenty year old Antoinette glanced only once or twice at the man but she danced on as her duty as prima ballerina.

"So cute!" An exclaim was heard, one of the variety of the same concept Ann had heard from many of the ballerinas. The new violinist had a tall nose, intense black eyes, wavy dark brown hair that was nearing a shade of black, and a goatee. Not nearly was the cute Ann thought of but his features were quite fine, even if they didn't go quite well together. Ann twirled and took another glance; he was swaying to the music unlike how the retired and much older violinist used to do. Passion filled this man as he played on his violin. For one second their eyes had met, she had noticed the glimmer in his eyes that launched a playful smile. Before she realized it, she had fallen down. The rest of the rehearsal she had already decided to keep her eyes off the man. Her last relationship ended badly as Alexandre ran off with one of the ballerinas, one of her closer friends. Then Erik. Erik, oh stupid Erik! When he at last turned fourteen, he confided in Antoinette that he would be leaving for a little bit, fashioning another mask that fully covered his face instead of half. When Ann questioned, he simply told her there was no time. Time!

"Erik, you are barely fourteen!" She had told him, but he shook his head and stood his ground firmly. He told her he wanted to visit the world, to see what mankind denied him, to feel like he belonged.

"You will come back, right?" That was all she could murmur when she realized that she could never stop Erik. He was too persistent and stubborn.

"When I feel like it," He shrugged, as Ann pulled him into a hug. That day, she went down to his lair and assisted his packing. Erik had trouble determining whether he should bring his librettos or whether to bring more clothes. He had chosen librettos at first but Ann protested. Erik had become her little brother now and she knew she would miss him dearly.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle," A voice rang out, breaking her out of her thoughts and her hands immediately flew off the necklace Erik had given her on her seventeenth birthday. She turned around, and her look of shock might have startled the man.

"Oh, my name is Jules Giry," He smiled, "And you are, mademoiselle?"

"Ann. I mean Antoinette!" She studied his expression.  
"Ah. You have already discovered who I am, of course. "He laughed a warm laugh, "Nothing spreads faster than gossip in an opera house!"

"And what evidence could you bring for that?" A sultry voice came from behind Ann. Another ballerina had come to flirt with the workers.

"I just arrived in dear, sweet France from the Scandinavian countries, worked in four different opera houses before coming here!" He nudged the shoulder his violin case rested on.

"Oh, a foreigner! You men are the best _if you know what I mean_" The ballet rat exclaimed, batting her eyelashes, as Jules tried to keep from snickering. At the same time, Ann was trying to keep from turning red in embarrassment.

"Actually, I am from France." He corrected, "I left to Scandinavia after fighting in the wars and realizing I can't stand murder as I can stand music,"

For that one line, Ann immediately thought of Erik who would have turned sixteen by now, out there, wherever he was.

"Well, I shall be going now." He nodded, his black eyes lingering on Ann, "_Au revior_, Antoinette."

Time had passed quite quickly and before she knew it, she was standing by herself, right in front of the entrance she normally used to visit Erik. She wished that he would be there, and stepped forward. Nothing was the same, the corridor dirty and filled with spider webs and their owners. Finally, she arrived at the lair. It was really no different than when she last saw it, three years ago. Except nothing was illuminated by the bright candles and no music played on. She walked around, fingering what the place had become. The smell even returned to the stink of the lake water and how the lake water made her shiver. The cool breeze fluttered around her and she started to cry. She had missed the little boy. Oh God, he was only such a little boy! Ann couldn't feel her feet anymore and she collapsed on the swan bed. The fabric of it was soft, never having been slept on before, except for her. She wrapped the crimson blankets and snuggled closer in it, hoping to find comfort. It reeked of mothballs but she didn't care. Her eyes deceived her and she fell into a slumber.

The next morning she had woken up. Panicking, she quickly crawled out of the bed and cursed Erik for banishing mirrors from the lair. She rearranged her hair as best as she could and finally decided just to braid her hair into two long braids of red. Dashing to the door, she ran back to make the bed. Then she found herself face to face with Jules Giry.

"Where have you been?" He asked, the concern not hidden.

"I, um, lost track of time," She muttered, feeling herself turning pinker.

"Rumors are spreading," He chuckled, as she shook her head with her own stupid actions.

"Not necessarily the best. They believed you were whoring for me," His eyes twinkled.

"I'm sorry!" She looked up at him. He was quite tall.

"No, just worried for your position as prima ballerina," He looked forward.

"Oh," She murmured, as he continued.

"Paris is beautiful," He stated rather bluntly, "After living up north, I had never realized the beauty of its music, its fashion, of its very people," He trailed off, looking at Ann. She could only keep her mouth shut, she was rather on the attractive side and men often flirted with her. She mainly chose to ignore them, but Jules? She didn't know much but she felt…safe.

"Care for a walk?" He questioned the violin ever present on his back. They wandered about the park until he stopped. Jules pulled out his violin case and dumped the case on the floor. He shrugged and explained how he could earn some extra money. Suddenly, music filled her and reminded her of the way Erik was able to. It no longer sounded like Mozart but as if the town was ablaze in fire, with the heat of its passion. People cared to throw some francs in his case, but they walked on chatting and ignoring the music. Jules was an exceptional musician no doubt, and he mentioned he had some tutoring in Scandinavia. Looking at him, he was so into the music, lost in his own world. With every forte he attacked, the music sounded so deafening. After the song ended, no one noticed. Jules pulled up the sleeves of his collared shirt, and his hands combed back some of his hair that had fallen out of place. Ann eyed him, unsure of her feelings. He picked his violin backed up and Ann stood up.

"I must return," She told him, "Thank you for the lovely talk, it was nice to be outdoors,"

"Wait, let me clean up!" He struggled forward to pocket the little money he earned, "I have to take you back,"

"It's fine," She smiled, as she backed away.

"At least take my coat, it is cold," He offered her the black coat. How scandalous she would look, returning in some oversized men's coat. She politely shook her head no, "Please, I insist. I will need a reason to visit you."

"Then I will give you my word," She smiled, "That I promise to come visit,"

"Very well," Jules nodded slightly, "Then good bye,"

"Good bye," She turned to walk, wrapping her arms around herself. What was this new feeling? She barely knew this man! All she knew was that he came from up north, his name was Jules, and that he was strikingly good looking…in a way. They had met for a span of two days but she saw something and she wasn't sure if it was good or bad. As she traveled further, she could feel those ardent eyes trailing her and she dared not turn around. A song had begun to play, from some opera, about two lovers who were destined to be together. How cruel music could be.

A/N Hey...final day of freedom before school starts :) I'm happy but I'm treading it...did anyone had nightmares as well? About failing finals or something... Here you go with the next chapter! See you all in around five reviews, maybe? come on, that's reasonable :)


	11. Chapter 10

Two years had passed and the now twenty two years old Antoinette wandered about her quarter in the opera house. It was a comfortable little thing and a cozy home that she considered. In the past year, she had taken her name as Antoinette Giry; being happily married to the man she loved dearly. After being married, she and Jules moved out from their respective dormitories and rented a little room in the opera were married at the church near the opera house and all her ballerinas were there to cry and hug her before they left for their honeymoon. It was a modest trip to a seaside house and Ann squealed at the sight of the beautiful sea. After they returned, it was a steady draw back into the phases of realization that they were one now. Jules still played his violin with all the same passion. She had finished cleaning up the table and dusted the room. Her eyes lingered on the picture of themselves on their wedding day, full of joy. He had saved up enough with playing the violin in the span of a year and a little more to pay for her ring, a simple diamond that she had adored anyway, and for a dress to be made. Today, after he returned home, she would have much to say to him. After ten months of being happily wedded, Ann had discovered she was with child. The protruding bump was still barely visible but if one saw her from the side, as she seen in her reflection, she was in the family way. The concept had frightened her and she still considered herself a slim ballerina until she realized the ring on her left hand was not the thing preventing her from dancing with her usual glory but the little unborn child in her stomach. Already she could see a little child who sat between the two of them. She tingled with the shivers of excitement as she vowed to be the dutiful wife she was supposed to be.

Nearing six o' clock the door had opened and Ann ran as quickly as she could, losing all of the grace she had as a ballerina.

"Jules," She let out breathily before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in a kiss.

"_Mon Dieu_, what is it, Annie _ma cheri_?"He beamed with his arms still around his wife.

"I have news! Good news!" She kissed in between sentences. He nodded for her to go on, fingering her red locks.

"We are having a baby. _Un petit bebe! "She_ rubbed her stomach contently. Jules's eyes had widened in exhilarated joy.

"We are?" He questioned excitedly, putting both hands over hers on her stomach. His warm and gentle palms made her wish they could be like this forever, "How far along, _ma femme_?"

"I think three months," She blushed as he held her closer.

"I love you so much," He muttered into her hair and then got to his knees and kissed her hands as she giggled. He faced her stomach and muttered little greetings to his son or daughter. Then he stood up, and left, humming a familiar and jovial tune.

She patted her belly and smiled before heading into the kitchen.

That night, Ann could not fall asleep. Finally, she fell into a horrid nightmare. She saw little boys running around she was following him, one of several who seemed to all scatter.

"Stop, stop! Who are you?" She was yelling until he turned around and she recognized the deformed face. His eyes were filled with hatred and loss.

"Erik!" She whispered out, but he kept on running. She followed until he jumped into the river. There, she began yelling. Ann realized what she was yelling. "Help! My son! My boy jumped into the river!"

What was she saying? This boy was not her son! It was Erik! The boy she had not seen in nearly five years. But he would not be twelve now. And before anything can be said, she awoke with a jolt, sitting upright in the bed.

"Ann, what is it?" Jules woke up groggily, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his wife, "Is it the baby?"

"_Non_, Jules, just a horrible dream," She shook her head and leaned into his chest, his arms encircling her. The twenty eight years old violinist kissed his wife on the head softly, before continuing.

"Would you care to tell me?" He whispered.

"It was…I don't even know…" She began muttering, "Oh Jules, it was horrible! I was so confused and I was running after this boy who I thought I knew but…" She could barely continue, how would he see Erik as?

"Shh…" He hugged her fervently as she sniffled, more awake than ever.

"It was just a dream, it was nothing." He assured her.

"Yes, yes. Go back to bed, Jules," She nodded, her hands fingering his face.

"You will as well! I will not allow my pregnant wife to be in such dangers!" He touched her belly instinctively.

"Tomorrow, I have scheduled an appointment with the doctor," She stated, "At ten o' clock."

"I will do all I can to be there." He nodded while suddenly thinking of his trusty violin in contempt, "Be very careful, _ma amour,"_

"Yes, I will," She reclined down next to him in their little bed and he grasped her hand. Then she knew everything was going to be alright. He would be by her side, always. She snuggled closer to him and he impulsively pulled her closer.

"I love you," She whispered, making little circles with her hands on his chest.

"I love you, Antoinette," He murmured almost quite unconsciously.

She still couldn't fall asleep. Everything had changed from when Erik had left, she recalled. Less trouble occurred mysteriously, fewer priorities for her, she had her Jules now. And a baby on the way! She thought that this was the life she wanted. The life she would be content with for the rest of her life.

**AN Gah...Do you likee? I really didn't want to get into detail abot their dates like I did with Alexandre but that was because he was stupid...besides, they are married=they can do things legally :) haha...next week is FINALS (Hermione-screaming now!) I am so bloody scared but Im also doing auditions for my school play and they are doing MASQUERADE! woohoo :) results are out on monday and how are you liking their happy little bubble?**


	12. Chapter 11

Ann walked home alone after meeting with the doctor. Her palms were still over the little bump and she wandered about, listening to the merchants yell out. Everything seemed fine with the little child that barely formed a bump.

"Mademoiselle!" A crackly voice called from behind her," Would you like to buy some apples?"

Her response was wrapping her shawl tighter around her and shaking her head quickly. The former prima ballerina dodged around the streets, and something caught her attention. Nervously, she turned around and continued her way home, her red hair falling across her face from the side. The way home from the outer part of the village usually was isolated and Ann took her precautions, never having been scared because, well, if she wasn't scared of going down below to the catacombs of the Paris Opera House, walking through a shortcut in broad daylight should not frighten her.

"Escaping from me?" A masculine chuckle came from her left ear.

"Erik?" She whispered, not bothering to find the source of his voice. He stepped out from the alley and a gasp was stifled when she saw her long lost friend, five years later. From a little, insecure boy was a grown man. If it wasn't for that mask, she would have never recognized him from first glance. He was taller than her now; his bluish eyes more intense than ever, a broad smirk on his face that made him look considerably relaxed. The little strands of hair on his right side were combed back neatly.

"Miss me?" His voice was still angelical but it was one of a man. Thin arms crossed over his cloaked body, she couldn't believe she was inches away from the same Erik she knew.

Before they both knew it, Ann leaped into a giant bear hug. He was so tall now, his chin resting on her crown of red hair, she grabbed at the anterior of his fine attire, telling herself he was real and all the emotions she bottled up was back, this hidden wanting for her old friend. Erik's arms snaked around her waist, his eyebrows raised below the mask. His long fingers still had the grace that all pianists would desire, filled with passion and agility.

"God, Annie, I missed you. The women in Persia may have been pretty but…," Erik trailed off, thankful for his mask that hid emotion so well. She looked up at his clouded face, deducting his age to be around seventeen.

"Really?" He smelled like something she couldn't note.

"Sure, you were the first who didn't shrink at the sight of my face," Erik shrugged.

"First?" Ann looked amazed, until Erik shook his head, noting to her that he never did dare show his face throughout all these years.

"Wait? How'd you know where I would be?" She pulled slightly away.

"Antoinette, It does not take much to frighten a couple of frightened ballet rats," He pulled one hand and kissed it with amused eyes.

"I just came back to find my residence completely intact. For that, I am grateful. It has been so long and I somehow, I found myself back in Paris." He looked down, his eyes trailing down his long dress pants, and Ann suspected that was not the reason her masked companion had come home "How have you been?"

By now, Ann had reluctantly let go, there was no time to be that little girl. Five years could change so much. Five years ago, she was the leading star of the ballerina and he was a little teenager frustrated with trying to fit the knowledge of the entire world into his mind.

Walking hand and hand, they wandered slowly through the alley. Erik seemed unknowing and awkward to how her feminine hands encircled his fingers. He was able to grasp the summary of how the women mind worked, not the infinite details of it. Somehow, he was disconnected to physical touch and this newfound warmth entered him as she still grasped onto him, despite that long hug they shared. This was typical Ann, still asking him if she remembered to do this, if he did that, and being such a mother to him. He did not know how to comprehend these feelings he had, even when he was halfway across the continent and he was still considering himself a young teenager incapable of true love. Who was he kidding, she was his best friend!

By the time, she arrived at the opera house, the sun was setting and Erik let go of her hand. It was a weird feeling, his hands suddenly felt empty. Empty, like something he had grasped onto for so long was going to disappear at any time. Her stomach had done little flutters that she knew she could not yet accuse the baby to be capable of yet, and then the thought hit her again. Her husband was awaiting her now and it was so late!

"Erik, welcome home," She smiled hastily, as she stepped toward the opposite way. Erik raised his brows, a quizzical expression on his face.

"If I am not mistaken, I often escort you to the direction in the left, not the right," He began, more of a gentleman than he had been, or merely because he was older.

"Um, about that, Erik…" She did not know how to tell Erik. This situation was far more than she had expected. Who knew he would return? She had believed the rest of the world would be better than the murky underground environment he had lived in. She missed him and tried hard to get over him, but maybe he was just saying goodbye. Telling Erik would be harder than telling Jules about Erik, who knew what could tick the seventeen year old off? "It's just that, I don't live there anymore,"

Erik looked aghast.

"What do you mean?" He ended the silence, his expression reminding her of her own father that one final day when he decided to send her to train at the Opera House. His eyes darted quickly to the architecture of the opera house.

"Nothing, Erik, really, it's nothing," She took one of his hands again, looking up at him with a little fear. He used to be this little brother to her and now, she was looking up at him as if he was authority itself, "I have to go," She ran away, tears streaming down her face as her footsteps pattered down the opera house's floor. Pregnancy had made her quite emotional at times. Finally, she paused, her breath hectic and putting one palm on her stomach again, she looked back. From what she could see, he was no longer there, but somewhere deep inside of her, she knew she had done wrong. Her eyes traveled down to the trembling hand on her stomach, suddenly torn between so many worlds, the world she gave up and the one she had dreamed for. Where did Erik belong in this world? Calming herself down, she calmly began to walk home, breathing out an apology. Except she didn't know what she was really sorry for.

**A/N Heyyy…Just took finals and er…yeah… tired and I didn't make it in the musical :( gah! Just to clarify, it was like a Broadway medley (I know, my dream come true…) and the number, Masquerade, from Phantom was in there…Ah well, better luck next year, I had a feeling it had to do with seniority. So, didja hear the pretty new song from Love Never Dies? I have a bad feeling about the whole thing but. . .I mean, Raoul was a good guy and now what?, Christine is going to die, Forsyth was stupid, Erik in New York? WTF! I am reading Les Miserables now! WHOO! It's a great book! Poor Fantine… Anyways, I knew this seemed a little bit Bella/Jacob but it was not my intention! Gah, the whole height thing and finding someone else…EWWW… to you all later!Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 12

"Annie, _ma cheri,_ we need to talk." Jules looked gravely at Ann one day, as she brought two plates of food to their candlelit table. Antoinette Giry looked up, her hands protectively over her five month large stomach. She spent these days with Erik more and more, sometimes forgetting to come home to make dinner for Jules. Recently, he looked more strained and tired. Sometimes when she comes home from some excuse, he would be there, stuffing something in his pockets when at times he would happily serenade her and the child with music from his violin. He himself worked later and late. A sigh escaped her lips as he ran both hands through his dark hair and rubbing his eyes.

"I am in danger," Jules stood up and took her face in his hands, "Annie, I'm so sorry to drag you into all of this," He looked near tears, as he looked up and down, anywhere but at her confused face.

"Jules! What is happening?" She grasped his arms as his hands ran slipped out of her palm's grasp and his hands wrapped around it.

"Annie, _Mon Dieu_!" He was shaking as Ann interrupted.

"Jules, tell me what is happening!" She used one hand to pull his terrified glance at her. Her hands could feel this jaw, scruffier than before and wet with sweat rolling down his face.

He nodded, sitting down on the chair as she did too.

"You do not know who I was before I came here, ma_ perle_," This was when a letter came out from his pockets and Ann could see a articulate cursive, neat on the paper, " I was not always a violinist. Before, I was a baron. My father had arranged my marriage to another who was to become baroness, another from my rank." Here, Ann's eyes rose, as her she felt the baby kick in her stomach.

"And I told my father I desired an education in music and he had sent me to a school to learn from the very best but still, I wanted nothing to marry. I did not want to throw away my life as a single man and playing music away for her. So one night, I ran off to Sweden, there lived a legendary violinist my professors talked off, so leaving my father a note that 'I was gone, don't try to look for me.'" He heaved a sigh, "But she found me,"

"So what are you saying here? " She felt her stomach churning at the sight of the potatoes on the dining table.

"The point is, she is willing to tell the newspapers that Baron Giry is not really missing but alive, she knows of my marriage to you and she will humiliate you. I was her way of marrying into a well to do family as her father gambled away their money so her mother quickly arranged this marriage." He explained, "She tells me someone will be following my every move and that in bargain, she wants something for us to be well again."

Suddenly the redhead was furious. All this time, he was married to her and to think he was different but he was just nobility looking for fun and unsatisfied with their life. She was suddenly just a ballet rat, not Jule's wife anymore. Her mind recollected their thoughts and to think she was ready to tell Erik about Jules! Erik was her only secret to him, one of the few she hid from the world though. No. Not anymore, this secret he had kept from her from two years of being in each other's company. He needed not to know about Erik, who pitifully lived his youth and suffered much more because of his face.

"Ann, do not be mad, you and the baby's safety matters the most now," He put one hand on her stomach.

"And you think I will just listen now! Jules, this is serious!"

"I know, shh…" He shushed as if someone was there, he was becoming more and more paranoid, "Ann, you know I will never hurt you but there is nothing we can do now, I have to write back to her and I will tell her to back off. Everything will be all right." He reassured her as his own confidence was diminishing. Her anger mixed with a sudden feel of despair. She was married to him and they loved each other so much. This secret angered her now and to think that he feared for her safety.

"Jules, I need to sit down." She shook her head, slowly removing his hand from her stomach. This first major dissension had to be over such a major issue. She knew from the start he would never abuse her or their soon to be born child. What was to happen now? What can his family really do to punish their only son for running away and not marrying the girl he was supposed to? Rubbing her temples, she wandered into their tiny room ad sat down on the bed. Jules stood there, his hands shaking as the letter started to crumble. Sighing, he took his fork and started picking at the food with his fork.

She did not know how serious this problem was for Jules could have had hidden much from him. Her eyes slowly deceived her and she fell and as her hand felt sudden kicks from the baby, and she fell asleep. Faintly she could hear the door open and close and a blanket being draped over her body and the candle extinguished.

**A/N: Woo! I went to see CATS! It's so randomly fun and lolzers! Haha...Yep, anotha random chapter but the fun arrives later ;)**


	14. Chapter 13

It was a wonder that Anne could wander around the opera house and Erik would have no idea that she was expecting. Or so she believed. Time crawled by, her stomach getting fuller but she could not blame the genius. She had always wrapped something around herself and her worry for Jules rose. Arguments had broken out between the two but Jules could always manage to control himself, and he would waste the day in drink.

Jules had tried to arrange plans to move to the country side, and then a threatening letter came from _her_. It read that she had spies all around and for loved ones to beware. When Jules read that, he put his palms over Ann's stomach. He murmured I love yous and kissed her softly. As she stood up wading around, the eight and a half large stomach protruding out as her hair rolled down both shoulders. She walked towards her vanity to prepare for the rest of the morning. Opening the little drawers, a box upon her and she opened it to see a little ballerina, hand crafted, with red hair braided around her head and in a simple tutu. Music played softly as she twirled about and she pulled out that necklace from so long ago before all of the turmoil---

"Having a good day, Madame?"

She turned around to see Erik striding to her side with a mysterious smirk before he was right behind her and the air around was simply intoxicated and stuffed. His presence made her stiffen and she turned before standing up as he took her hand and kissed it softly, his palms brushing over her fingers and lingering on her simply wedding ring.

"How'd you get in here?" Her maternal instincts seemed to enter long before her child would be born.

"A little figuring out and I have known long ago, darling." He smiled, eyeing her up and down.

"Erik, I have so much to tell you," She started as Erik took her gently by her face and his luminous eyes scanned her face sensing something was wrong. His fingers grasped on to her cheeks, and suddenly his lanky hair fell in his eyes. Suddenly a pang reached her lower stomach as she gasped, grabbing unto the front of Erik's shirt. He looked down with a frown to see a puddle of water nearing the edge of his leather shoes as he looked at her again.

"Help," She whimpered as Erik put two and two together. The seventeen year old nodded, leaning down and placing one hand under her knees and the other below her neck, securing her as she bit on her lip, as he quickly sat her down on the bed.

"Erik, I'm having a baby," She gasped out slowly, the pain was excruciating as Erik quickly pulled her hair into a soft bun, until reaching for a nearby towel.

"That I figured out as well, Annie, I know for a certain fact since you are leaking," He wiped his hands with a stern look on his face before she yelled out, beads of sweat rolling down her face, "I just never had the opportunity to meet the fine gentlemen who took my Antoinette."

"Erik--- "she continued as he madly interrupted.

"Enough, I wasn't enough even significant enough to hear ANY news of this! When I came back, you couldn't even bare to tell bore little ugly me that you, were married!" He waved his hands, grabbing at a chair and placing it at her bedside.

Antoinette whimpered out cries of pain as Erik shook his head.

"Not now, the stress would not do well with labor," He softened up his voice but kept his stoic expression.

"Erik-may you-Oh God!" Her eyes closed tightly, "Go get my husband!" She shrieked out.

The twenty two year old looked at Erik who showed no emotion, fearing his reaction. Hours seemed to pass as it neared twelve.

"No." He began as she looked at him with shock, "I will not, not ever, leave you in such a state."

"But, but, I need him!" She whimpered like a puppy, her answer uncertain. Erik had already taken off his coat, folding up the sleeves of his white shirt as he pulled a wooden chair closer to the bed and filling a jug with water. He took time for his eyes to meander about and it was him in those cursedly joyful photographs framed with wood and scattered across the surface of the drawers. Turning around, Ann was murmuring incomprehensible things.

Ann separated her legs, grasping onto the bed sheets. Erik took note not to look below.

"Annie, shh…" He draped a cool towel over her forehead and started wiping away the sweat as she flinched, the contrast of heat and ice blended. It didn't help that Erik's hands were ice cold.

"Your contractions, how far apart are they?" Erik softly murmured.

"You bas-TARD! How the _hell_ would I know?" She hissed out, giving him deathly looks before quietly adding, "Please, I need Jules,"

"Ann, I can't!" His voice had a near whining effect.

"Well, get down there—because ah!" She pointed to her arched knees, "you will deliver my baby."

Erik made a face, and sighed.

"I'll find Jules," He started out, kissing her softly on the forehead, before breaking into a sprint, concerned.

Fumbling around on the wooden bars above the opera house like a ballerina, he spotted two giddy girls. Clearing his throat, he announced that a Madame Giry was in her compartment, in labor pains. To his mind, he could not register Ann with the title of Madame Giry.

Hurrying ahead as the two girls hysterically screamed at a voice that seemingly came from nowhere, he rolled his eyes and moved faster towards the main stage, standing at a space to see the practicing orchestra ready to take a break. Even Erik cannot interrupt beauty as it plays, the prima donna's voice, not polished but still innocently screeching. The measure ended and Erik's eyes followed a man with a cello calling a man by the name Giry. From behind, he used his ventriloquism to lure him by himself in the corner and Erik could notice the face of this man. Just one or two inches shorter, his hair was speckled with light gray already and his eyes he would consider dark were emotionless and Erik escaped from the solitude of the shadow and hissed.

"Your wife is in labor, Giry," As Jule's eyes opened, he stuttered, Erik catching his violin as it fell out of the grasp of his hand, as Erik motioned him to move.

"Wh-who are y-you?" Not taking his eyes off the white mask upon his young face.

"Come, we have no time to spare," And Jules snapped back to life.

Had Erik not been so agile, he would not ever catch up with Jules. Slamming the door open, he rushed in and already the opera house doctor and three girls were assisting a screaming Giry.

"Monsieur Giry, the child will be due in a few minutes," The doctor turned after a couple of hours that passed like hours, recognizing the exceptional violinist. No one, except for Jules, seemed to notice Erik slipping quietly into the other room.

"I see the head!" One of the younger ballerinas squealed, and the scream of a baby brought a wave of relief into the room.

Jules almost wept in joy to see the child appear and placed kisses all around its tiny body. Annie weakly waved her husband over as the doctor gave advice that an official doctor in the village will be best. Leaving the room with three gushy girls, Erik stepped out as Jules sprang up, alarmed.

"You! Look I don't know who you are but however you know, I swear---"Jules pointed a lone finger as Erik walked forward calmly. The baby cried out again as Ann interrupted.

"Jules, this is Erik," She sighed, humming to the baby.

"Why are you masked? Who are you?" He kept throwing out questions to a bored and exasperated Erik.

"Jules, enough, love," She eyed him with apprehension then a look of apology to Erik. Jules brushed his hair out of his face, his hands then nervously rubbing against his scruffy chin. Suddenly Erik really _disliked _the man who protectively sat at his wife's bedside. He could see in Ann's eyes that the love he had for him and for Jules was completely different, but to the baby all the love in the world was directed at, well, he did not even know if it was a girl or boy. Seeing Jules place a kiss, slobbering all over Ann to a disgusted Erik, he mentioned a farewell as Ann asked him to stay for a very late dinner.

"No, I will see you tomorrow. It was a pleasure to finally meet Monsieur Jules," A tone of slight sarcasm entered his voice, as he returned the violin back to him, taking it articulately from where he placed it.

Hesitantly, Jules shook his hand and Erik left the room, and the two tried hard to regain a warm happiness with the little baby cooing and babbling in their arms.

**A/N Watdyathink? How do you think these two men would respond to each other? It will be elaborated in future chapters but for now, erm…thanks? And so long, farewell!**


	15. Chapter 14

"Jules, go tend to the baby," Ann mumbled, rolling over and shaking her husband gently. She pulled the blankets over her head, hearing the crying of her month old baby. Light snoring coming from Jules made Ann groan and get out of bed, putting on a shawl over her thin nightgown and she rubbed her eyes. Walking to the other side by holding on to the side of the bed in darkness, she lighted a candle and as she looked at her husband, she felt her heart torn. Poor, poor Jules! She wandered into the little subdivision of her tiny apartment and instead of a crying baby in a crib, she saw a man. Dressed all in black and when he turned over, his eyes pierced into hers that it took her a few seconds to remember that whiteness over his face was not natural. A few more seconds passed and she noticed her little daughter grabbing in awe at the man holding her, tears slightly muffled. Erik's hands suddenly transformed awkwardly, holding onto the baby. Ann walked closer, placing the candle down on the table and standing next to him by the crib. Holding on to the railings, Erik rocked the baby more than necessary as the baby babbled on holding her chubby little palms onto the sleeves of his shirt.

"This crib is ugly," Erik stated, eyeing the simple crib.

"We can't expect to spend our francs on something the _bebe'_s going to grow out of, Erik!" He began to smooth the blankets as the baby squealed, tiny and a blond buzz over her tiny head.

"Seems like just yesterday when it was only me and you," He contemplated, almost a bit mad, as he rocked the baby to the point where Ann knew the baby would not fall back asleep, "You know, you're lucky I was not the one delivering your precious child."

"What? Why?" She was a little scared, what would he bring up?

"What would you do if I tricked you? That I told you the baby was green or something?" He placed the baby back into the crib.

"I would love her nonetheless!" Ann put the blanket over the baby who fussed and grabbed at it.

"Clearly you would say that but you could never face it, correct," He smirked, dangling something over the child, "My poor mother must have said that too until she saw me,"

"Erik, must you always bring this up? I told you that several times. You are beautiful in your own way, even if you must act all sinister," She snatched whatever he was holding away, thinking of what awful woman would even sell her own son to gypsies, strangers, "The baby's never going back to sleep. If you have to visit her, come in the morning."

"Actually, if you want to get your night's worth of sleep, and if you trust me, I can care for her because I really find little need in sleep," He was hesitant.

"Why would you?" She placed both hands at her waist.

"Annie, you hang out with the freaks," He took back the little thing with a shrug she identified as a bracelet," Ask yourself, I think it is a thrill to associate with a child, makes me feel human again,"

His real thoughts on how much he was drawn to the baby was much more than he can explain.

Slightly disturbed by Erik's comment, she started, "I'll have to ask Jules about a midnight babysitter,"

"You haven't told him about me yet, have you?" His voice had a persuading effect, as she shook her head while eyeing the baby whom Erik slightly touched at the stomach, "Well, let us see. I can sing, I can buy her the finest, and uh…I'm not fatherly material, am I?" His list stopped short.

"Well, you are close to it though. I want you to be her godfather," She breathed out, suddenly full awake.

"Godfather?" The word seemed unfamiliar in his extensive vocabulary.

"Yes, godfather," She patted him as his hands immediately sprang off the baby in alarm.

"She's so angelic," He commented, before continuing.

"You may find this surprising despite a month, more like a fortnight but, Madame, what is her name?" She was surprised at what he had just called her.

"It's Meg. Meg named after your favorite opera, Margarita from _Faust_. And Jules had a liking to that name." She smiled as Erik enunciated the one syllable name.

"Thank you and the name should suit her, I believe." He smiled, humming a little segment of the opera to the yawning baby.

"Ann, is the _cherubin _quite all right?" A tired voice came from the other side, forcing both Erik and Antoinette to sigh.

"Yes, Jules, go back to sleep!" Ann walked a little toward the bed, breathing in deeply.

"It is nearing morning, the baby is asleep," He placed a hat unto his head, looking once more at little Meg.

"You can visit me whenever you want, you know that?" She crossed her arms.

"I will be here nightly, and you mind if I borrow this book?" He held up a copy of _Madame Bovary._

"Of course you may," And Erik slipped it into his coat without much word and nodded, as he slipped into darkness again. Taking a seat again, she felt like the meeting was so surreal. She returned to Jules's side, moving her hands up and down his arms. She traced his veins sticking out of his arms and her heart felt a little moved. He nudged over a little, his breath tickling her. It was time to live life as a family now.

**A/N: Good day! Happy Easter! So I got with the rest of the world and made a facebook…it's addictive in a way but then again, I'm bored outta my bloody mind. Enjoy?**


	16. Chapter 15

The baby was babbling as Jules placed little spoonfuls of mush into her mouth happily.

"Meg, my dearest, "He murmured as he sorted through the letters on the table. She was now ten months old and her giant innocent eyes still made Jules glad of the life he had now with his wife and child. She looked so much like his Annie, except the blond hair that fuzzed over her little head. Ann walked over with a smile and kissed her husband lovingly before setting a plate of fritters and sliced apples.

"_Ma Cheri_, a letter from Gustave Daae here! Adding to the letter's date, he just had a daughter that is six months old, a girl named Christine but the mother died in childbirth. Oh, what a day!" He diverted his attention to his daughter, "What a coincidence and just one day you will be braiding each other's hair, Meg _petit_. I must send my regards to his poor wife" Nodding at the news of her husband's former instructor, Ann wiped her hands on her apron, going on with the rest of her actions. Outside the church bells rang eight times and birds squawked below the sun, flying over the rest of Paris.

"I have got to go," He stood up, placing the baby in her crib before grabbing his violin and pulling his wife into a hug.

"Jules, tonight," She whispered in his ear softly before he kissed her and with a smile, headed off to practice with the orchestra. Staring after him with a huge smile on her face, she hummed a little tune and holding the baby up. Everything seemed it would all be better. Erik came to visit often, even if it were in the middle of the night, the baby growing healthily, and her marriage falling back in place slowly.

And so a few weeks passed like this and two men came to her door. Dressed in her simple housewife's outfit and expecting more than just two officers.

"Madame Giry?" They went on, emotionless, "We have found your husband, dead just a few meters outside the Opera Populaire. And she broke down crying when she saw his dead body strangled and bruised. Just like that, they went on discussing costs and debts, housing issues, and little Meg started to whimper and cry, calling for Papa. She couldn't listen. Still, her hands traced over his face, her fingers combed down his hair that just began to gray.

"Madame Giry? Did you hear?" The younger policeman took her shoulder gently as she nodded automatically. Twenty two years old and a widow with an eleven month old baby, no future.

And she sat in front of her vanity, a birthday present from him. The candles flickered in front of her, his picture framed in front. With bloodshot eyes that only stared and no makeup covering its lids, dressed in the same dress everyday and red hair no longer beautifully decorated, she moped. She knew he would die though, but not so quickly. She had caught glimpses of Erik, he never talked. The eighteen year old took liberty to play with his little goddaughter, leaving little sums of money around her apartment, just making sure she was fine. He most definitely didn't know how to deal with this. She threw furniture around, quietly cleaning it all up. She ate little, always holding onto Meg whenever possible. Then one day she told herself to suck it up, no point in being weak, she was independent before he came. But everything had changed.

"Tomorrow's Meg's first birthday," Erik finally brought up. Of course, she remembered. And thinking of Jules, she wept, knowing he never saw his only daughter turn one. While he pulled her into an awkward hug, Meg tugged onto his ears jokingly as Erik just recently cut his hair. Meg remembered the father who played with her every morning faintly and somehow merged Erik into her image of her deceased father.

"And?" She acted indifferent, taking each one of Meg's fingers.

"I can't take it, seeing you like this," He mumbled, eyeing her dress disdainfully and her lips curled in a frown.

"Just give me time, Erik!" She turned away as he walked over to her vanity and took one of her husband's pictures. From Meg's crib, he heard her bade her goodnight and blow out the candles. He took a seat on her chair, being so un-Erik-like with his slouching. She wandered behind the dressing board and he observed her silhouette, her throwing her tattering black dress over the wall before coming out with a frown, and in the same nightgown he saw her in every night.

"You need anything, Erik?" She sighed before pulling back the sheets.

"Annie," He whispered sadly, walking towards her as she quickly settled in her bed. She wanted no time for him lecturing her to get on with her life, he had no right to for what did he know of love? The thought came out wrong and she closed her eyes, hoping tears would not come now. As if a cat jumped on the bed, she could feel Erik nearing her as he kissed her softly on the forehead. When she found courage, her eyes opened and she reached for his mask. He only flinched when it was no longer on his face but in her delicate hands. He tried turning away, his face bearing more marks from the mask.

"You know I am not scared of your face. Erik, promise me nothing reckless. I don't want to lose my best friend too," And her hands trailed down to the back of his collar, pulling him downward, and for a second, he lost his grace, "I want you, Erik," She breathed out, and she could feel him pulling back a little.

"What's the matter, you don't want me?" A flash of low confidence was in her blue eyes.

"No, Ann, I—"He began only to be interrupted by her desperate kisses. Before he knew it, his collared shirt was unbuttoned and he never thought he would be the one getting raped, but he was enjoying it! He discovered more of her than he ever knew, her soft flesh responding to his kisses. Nightgown on the floor, he hovered over her, taking her face as she groaned. Grabbing at his short hair, lips traveling down his neck with one hand and trying to undo his pants with the other, he nudged a little but it was too much for her.

"God, what am I doing?" She hysterically cried out, pushing him off and pulling her nightgown on again quickly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Ann, I apologize," He sat up, his bare chest thin with lines tracing of the outline of a slight six pack. Nothing had really happened yet, he knew. In one part, he wished he could feel actual joys of the flesh yet… not now. She saw him only as a friend. She had already gone to check on Meg, her heart begging Jules for forgiveness. And so Erik entered the room, fully dressed and as if they weren't just ripping each other's clothes off, as Ann looked at him with a maniac's eyes before rushing past him. Stepping forward, the nearly one years old baby was sleeping peacefully despite all the noises.

"Meg, one day you will be empress, and you must remember your mother and thank her," He alleged, kneeling down and holding on to the wooden railings. "_Bon Nuit_,"

**A/N" Hey y'all! Spring Break was not very happy… Gah…Wishing my buddies a happy birthday nonetheless! And did you all hear LND is postponed until Spring 2011 because ALW is having issues after his prostate cancer surgery? Yep, and then I went to see Hairspray at the OCPAC on Thursday! And sorry its badly written…I had a how the heck do I word my thoughts block…K…then…me going back to my depressing bubble…Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for reading. Bye.**


	17. Chapter 16

"Happy Birthday, Meg," Erik murmured, his long fingers circling her chubby body. Crawling on and seizing anything in sight, she started bouncing on his knee shrieking and erupting out giggles. Leading on a slight smile, his luminous eyes followed Meg, cautious to hold on to the new one year old, who was in merely in her crème colored nightgown. As she bounced happily, Erik took note of the tight little blond curls that flew up and down around her carefree face, big innocent eyes hinting at mischief. He had placed himself at her side since she was so young, before the sights of baby teeth began emerging, before she could utter "mama", and before his best friend entered a downward spiral of low confidence with the death of a man she barely got to know yet. Of course, once he heard, he had examined his body and was not a least bit shocked by the grotesque strangling he had suffered. Once he had to as well, to escape but as years went on, that was not his method of killing. During the teenage years he had stayed in Persia, he had found the "magic lasso" boring compared to sweet slow torture which he had began constructing around his underground lair. Merely provisional to prevent curious strangers.

But studying the way it was done, a choking to death, he surely wasn't to be blamed then! No blood, just a mere lasso finding its way around someone's neck, quite accidently! The thought was juggled in his mind at how the little girl had all the signs of beauty; she looked just like her mother except her eyes were the same color as her father's.

Whatever the case, the early morning was only a play date between the mysterious phantom and a toddler who had familiarized herself with this masked man. Shrugging off murderous torture ideas for later thought, he distracted himself with running his fingers through the baby-soft and short blond tresses and setting her back in the crib to allow himself to pull out the little box he kept in his pockets and reaching below the wooden crib to receive the larger box, both presents for his goddaughter. Opening the box, he pulled up a light pink dress donned with sparkling jewels and laced with fine garments, exactly her size. Unbuttoning the dress and undoing the white bow, he modeled the clothes on her, examining the frilly lace around the collared neck line and little sleeves. Nodding an approving look, he opened the box and pulled out shoes, soft shoes for her first steps that were going to happen any day. Laughing at the thought of her wandering about the house pulling on the bottom of Ann's dresses, he wished for more time. Right now, life was not as cruel to him, he had Ann to himself again at this stage where she was learning to get over her grieving, selfishly enough, and little Meg was so tiny, so adorable. A part of him wondered how his own mother can refuse him, just because he was ugly. Why could she never grow to love him? Only tolerating him until selling him off to the gypsies. Meg stiffly tugged at the fine patterns that had decided to cover her body before looking up at Erik with wide eyes. Erik softly took her into his arms again and he felt his heart warm as she pushed to wrap her arms around him, cooing.

"God damn," He muttered, overcome by the fact confused affection a child showed was the only affection he would ever get.

"Erik, no swearing in front of my daughter," Erik turned around to see Ann, leaning on the frame of the doorway, arms crossed vulnerably more than irritably.

"You have the most exceptional hearing, don't you?" He laughed, strolling to her side with baby in arms.

"Merely when it comes to Meg and you. What a racket you made all night, I couldn't sleep at all!" She gasped slightly at the sight of the elaborate dress Erik had bought Meg, fingering the garments and thinking of Erik staying up at Meg's side all night as he typically did, more vocal than usual, however, "Erik! My God!"

"Thought you said no sacrilege," He feigned disapproval.

"Erik, you gave her this dress? It's lovely," She trailed off, looking at him with awe. Her hands caught one leg, pulling it closer to see the new, leather shoes that were on the birthday girl's feet before suffocating Erik with a hug and squishing her daughter in between. Meg let out a confused yelp and Antoinette's eyes were red from holding in tears.

"Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday, _ma chere ange_," She whispered, kissing Meg on each cheek like birds pecking. Letting go, Erik brushed at his white shirt.

"Must you always get so emotional?" He seemed slightly amused, carefully leaning over as an instinctive move for the former ballerina to take her child.

"Hold on, Erik," She scurried to her vanity before quickly running back and she hurriedly motioned with her hands to turn Meg around with a smile. Fastening on a necklace that dangled just a bit too much, Erik traced the cross the one year old now wore, "Will you come to her baptism next week? I was going to earlier but then Jules died and-and I, well now she's one, it's almost too late," She mumbled on, the speed of her voice faster and faster.

"I'm not exactly the type you ask to come to a Catholic induction ceremony, Antoinette," He raised his eyebrows, as she looked crestfallen. He remembered she used to grow up under a religious mother who took her to Mass every Sunday but after her death, her father sent her to the opera house to train, burdened by his own conflicts. So reluctantly, he agreed. "Fine, but today we feast,"

Ann shook her head wildly, "Erik, you really don't have to! Where could we go?"

"Don't you trust me, Madame?" He took her hand and kissed it softly, "Poor Meg would not have dressed up for nothing, and on her very first birthday!"

"Let me dress up," She pecked his cheek, letting out a whisper, "Thank you so much, Erik," She turned to a giggling Meg, "Happy Birthday, my love,"

After much fuss at her "last-year's" clothes from Erik, they set off, and from far away, they looked just as if they were a typical family. And so they sat down to eat, secluded in a location only Erik could have known of.

"I'm thinking. Wreaking havoc with the managers for money?" Erik sipped on his wine.

"Why, that's blackmail!" She gasped.

"As was the managers sending you pay for your monsieur's death," He murmured, "There were going to kick you out the moment he died but one letter did it all."

"What?"

"You really thought money was coming to you because they felt sorry for you?" He chuckled, scowling as he wiped Meg's mouth.

"What are you talking about?" She repeated, dumbfounded.

"What I am saying is, I obtain your income with intimidation," He started, "And maybe I should just put in more effort to scare people, huh? There's not an opera ghost that's had a sinecure, is there?"

"You can't do that, Erik! I'll work for my money!" She gasped.

"Oh shut it, Ann, by doing what? Being one of those prostitutes?" He looked at her straight in the eye, "You defy me to do that and I'd rather kill every man that dares touches you,"

"Erik," She moaned.

"_Mon amie_, You've known me all these years, you should get used to this behavior by now, I am who I am because of this cursed world." He threw a grape into the little pond angrily.

"You don't have to! We can always move away together to the countryside," She absentmindedly offered.

"And live your life with me? It is tempting but I-I'm just waiting for lo-I mean, I wish someone could return the emotions I feel for them. I think, that I might be able to scare away this new manager soon, he's fierce but only cares for the money," Silence greeted the both of them as Meg rolled in the grass, Erik not even concerned of the green grass stains on her new dress, "I need to know my life wasn't some cruel punishment by God, it's time to stop hiding like a scared spider in the corner of the darkness afraid of some stupid idiot to squash me! It's time I embraced who I am."

"And who is that? A fictional ghost who lives to frighten people?" She was slightly appalled.

"Antoinette!" He growled and Meg turned around, lips quivering at the new anger this masked man had.

"Do what you must." She calmly stated, Meg wandered over into her mother's arms "And I will do what I must."

**AN: Hey, sorry for the long time no update! But er…yea, no excuse huh? OK, then, hope you enjoyed this chapter! R/R please? Hehe…Thanks for reading and happy early Mother's day!**


	18. Chapter 17

"_Merde_," Erik hissed, fingering her shoulder blade and placing another one of his hands behind his head, "Remind me why we did this again?"

"Languge, Erik," Ann scolded, pulling some blankets.

"Sorry, I'm a _bad_ ghost," He pushed the blankets off of him and stretched his long legs.

"Well, it smells like cr-I mean, it smells horrible down there!" She began, referring to the flood of excreted feces that recently happened down below the cellars, of course no one knew what happened but when awful stenches rise above the orchestra pit, practice does not occur easily (or any more simpler). Not that Erik would mention when in truth he was simply doing a few renovations. You know, he would need some way of scaring people.

"You are aware I need not of naps," He turned to face her, "And apparently dear Saint Ann can't hold her tongue either,"

"Oh, shut up, one day it will catch up to you," She rolled her eyes, "And you do sleep, snore like a baby, I may add,"

"Since when do you wish to sleep next to me?" Erik eyed her intently.

"Where else will you go?" She shrugged.

He raised his eyebrows as she rolled over to the other side. For the first time, he kept quiet about his opinions around her as she tried hard to sleep.

" Ah! Madame Giry!" Monsieur Poligny followed her as she twirled around, bags of fresh produce in her hands.

"_Qui_, Monsieur?" She blankly stared at the manager of the Opera House.

"Your living conditions are coming into question, and please, it is no issue now, none at all!" He exclaimed, hastening his speech after her face contorted to one of horror, "As now as I am manager, your apartment is available for you as we do have quite of surplus of rooms but I am considering retirement in a year or two, so I know not of what after that," He did not mention why, mysterious letters coming in and landing on his desk advising him the best would be to allow the deceased Giry's wife and child to stay.

"I see, _Merci_, Monsieur," She gave a little curtsy out of instinct as he nodded and backed up. Rushing back home, she quickly thrust the door open, its rusty hinges creaking as her eyes scanned for one year old Meg.

"And that's our little secret," He whispered to Meg as he hastily turned to face Ann almost quite frightfully. Smoothing his thin hair with lanky fingers, he gave a smile as Meg called for Mama.

"I saw the hired men who are cleaning about the cellars, they don't dare go beyond what they can't see," She noted to Erik who could only merely chuckle, "And Monsieur Poligny brought up the issue of his retirement." She walked toward her vanity and nearly screamed.

"Holy-!" There was a gigantic mess on the table, notes everywhere, broken glass and torn up fabric, "Erik, what were you doing?"

"Calm down, Antoinette," He smirked, "I will tidy myself up, eventually,"

Meg crawled around on the floor as Erik picked her up, as Ann was flabbergasted, waving at the mess Erik had made of her room.

"How do explain this? I left for an hour and you made a stupid large mess!" She stomped on the floor.

"Please stop acting so immature, Antoinette; it's not as if I broke anything," He rolled his eyes, "Just trying to find something,"

"And may I ask what?" She crossed her arms.

"The fifty thousand francs I left for you, along with that dratted barrel of gunpowder" He simply shrugged, scowling at Meg's hair which was coming undone, "I couldn't leave it down there where it gets wet."

"Excuse me?" Ann gasped, patting her chest as if she were choking, "Gunpowder?"

"Oh just a little bit of money that came my way, when I do want them to go my way," His smile was nearing sinister with the change of topic, "Remember what I asked of you?"

She nodded quite hesitantly. Oh, let the games begin.

**A/N: Heyo! Last chapter until I come back from vacation! And I promise you, I've got more up my sleeve! Hope you guys enjoy your summer too :) Anyone doing anything phantomy? See ya guys and review please! And i know the ending's kind of confusing but it will all make sense (or maybe not) ;) NO! I;m using texting language!**


	19. Chapter 18

"I look like an imbecile," Erik tugged at the collars of white shirt and glancing at himself in the mirror from behind Antoinette, who was adjusting her green mask at her vanity desk as she turned back to smile at him.

"Nonsense," She stood up and began smoothing the fabric of his flamboyant black tailcoat and reaching for his hair, "Mmm...your hair is growing out, I like it like that, smoothed back," Her fingers followed the movement of his hair as he removed them with a smile and kissed the back of her palms.

"I'm not the best at making costumes, am I? I look like some chimpanzee set free ," He gestured at the elaborate costume he was wearing.

"Sure, you are, I have a thing for crazy, that's how I know you," She smiled reassuringly as he frowned quite humorously, "But Erik, this costume is amazing, I mean, this dress! It's so beautiful!" She began fingering her dress, intertwined branches and leaves dangling to create a elegant yet fairy-like effect. The length was enough to make the conservative cross themselves but why was it masquerade then? Before a moment's notice, he had already switched his mask along with the addition of an Englishman's top hat, now what seemed like a mold of someone's face with cunningly blue eyes, a nose, a mouth, just an image of who he wished he was it seemed, and she spoke, not mentioning why he decided to cover his green eyes "What are you supposed to be?"

"Whatever you wish me to be," The ambiguity of his answer was accompanied with a nod of his head.

"Maman! You look so lovely!" Six years old Meg scurried to her mother's side, dancing all around her chortling with joy, until she caught sight of Erik and immediately looked downcast, "Why can't I go? Oh, maman! Please, it will be so fun!"

"Meg _petit_, we talked of this, it will be late, and little six year olds cannot attend this, when you're older, maybe." She held Meg's hand as the little blond gave a pout as she reached for Erik.

"Fine! But Maman, Uncle Erik will have to tell me a story when he gets back! He promised me, Maman! A story!" Meg smiled as she swung Erik's hands excitedly.

"But you have to be very good tonight, _ma cherie_, or the Opera Ghost will come to get you!" Erik made a scared face as Meg laughed, rolling on the floor, her little braids bouncing on her shoulders.

"Oh, Uncle Erik! There's no opera ghost!" She straightened up her face as Madame Giry twirled with her red hair, which she had decided to let down, and then shot a knowing glance at Erik, who let out a grin.

"Oo-kay! We have to go now," The elder Giry blew a kiss to Meg, " love you so much, Meg," as Meg leaped into her arms for a hug and then hugged Erik who after six years of this little girl yanking at him, had gotten used to her adoring touch. With the closing of the door, Erik swung his arm around Ann's waist as he slid his other hands into his pocket.

"You're in a good mood tonight," Ann remarked, as Erik smiled beneath his mask as he shrugged, "That's good, it makes me glad," She slid her hand into one of his as his long fingers encircled hers.

"Not worried about how highly improper this might be?" He furrowed his brows as she looked up, amused.

"No one will know a thing, life is one giant masked ball," Ann replied briskly.

"True, very true." He nodded as her eyes caught of synchronization of their movements, setting down their right, then their left, carefree as if there was nothing at all, just Erik and Ann, "Remind me again why ou let Meg stay alone in your room?"

At twenty eight, Madame Giry was appointed ballet mistress after the retirement of the woman who was formerly her teacher. It was most opportune, seeing her return to who she was, a ballerina. The first year was shaky but as her second year came, she was as sharp as se expected those little girl's toes to be. Seemingly appropriate, she placed her daughter in the group at four years old. Meg had ardently refused, shaking her head wildly and whimpering but Ann could see that she had talent, and she _needed_ to learn proper techniques. At first, she ached to see her first falls and trips, her expectant eyes yearning for her mother's hug but Ann told herself she must be fair. She forced herself to snap at her but the job was good, finally a place where she could go to again, away from the scornful eyes of others. And during those years, her friendship with Erik had grown, both were in their late twenties, adults, and Erik was recently less...emotional around her.

"Antoinette," His soft voice brought her back and she realized they had come to a halt, his worried eyes upon her from behind the mask.

"I'm fine, just thinking," She shook her head, "what were you asking?"

"Never mind that," He ushered her forward, "We're almost there," And indeed they were, just less than twenty or so steps from the grand lobby of the Opera Populaire.

"I know the older ballerinas are going to find a way to come here tonight with their beaus, I've decided to put a blind eye out for that, " She grasped onto his arm as they took the steps up, as the music was loudly heard.

"They are not quite so good with sneaking out, just coming over to your apartment, I practically heard five girls squealing and rustling about." His eyes rolled as Ann chuckled, lifting up the left side of her dress, a long train of green leaves.

"I know, I used to be one of those girls, despite how goody two shoes I was, " She recalled all those times some "flavorful" boy had caught her eye and later the first New Year's Eve party she had attended with Jules...

"Why didn't you go all those years?" Erik waved a gloved hand at the boy who stood collecting cloaks.

"I hadn't even thought of it," She could only frown," Until you brought me the dress and asked me to come, what's the occasion?"

"Nothing, like you said, I'm in a decently approachable mood," Erik led her to the side of all the couples dancing, eyeing everyone as everyone eyed her in a world of masks, "What, you're not going to dance, Madame Ballet Mistress?" Erik nudged her.

"The question is if you could," She snapped back, batting her eyelashes.

"I learn quickly." He shrugged, "Lead the way,"

"Everybody! If i could have your attention for a few moments!" An evidently drunk man clinked his glass of wine before everyone halted, as the music lasted faded, "I am pleased to announced that Monsieur Leferve will now manage the opera house! Under new management, the opera house will open once more next week! Thank you!

"Monsieur Leferve? But Monsieur Claudan has not been here but two years! So early of a retirement?" Antoinette was quite surprised as the party picked up where it last off, loud and fervent.

"Eh, he was not my favorite to taunt with, thinks he's the opera ghost if he could be," Erik shrugged, "Once more, lead the way!"

And so they danced, instructions became jokes, missteps led to laughter, and switching of partners was one long, boring drag. And for hours, it went on, until the beer bottles clinked and the chorus girls sang, counting down to 1861 as Erik stuffed his hands into his pockets, refusing to look at his only friend. People around them began cheering as a group ran between the two of them and then they could only helplessly look at each other across a sea of people who cared only for themselves.

* * *

"Maman! You're home! Oh, maman, how was it?" Meg breathed out, running to the door as soon as it opened, "Uncle Erik, I was very good tonight!"

"Meg, it's almost one in the morning, why are you still up?" Madame Giry scolded. Erik standing with Ann, he began twiddling his thumbs.

"Why _are _you two still up?" Meg put her two hands behind her back, twirling around.

"Meg! You will not talk back to me, understand, ma cheri?" Madame Giry began talking off her mask.

"Ok, Maman!" Meg's voice began to near whining, " I was waiting for Uncle Erik to tell me a story!"

"Right we are," Erik had snatched Meg away faster than Madame Giry could say anymore. Someday, that might come in handy...

"So, what do you want to hear," Erik had set her on the bed as Antoinette sighed and headed off to change out of the elaborate dress.

"Oh, anything!" The six year old had put her two palms together as he grinned, removing his first mask and laying it on her bed. Meg began fingering the mask as Erik noted she really could keep it, and use it to "scare the phantom of the opera". And the stories began as Meg listened in fascination, yawning but a few times.

"And so the little mermaid jumped back into the sea, her home, expecting to turn into sea foam but suddenly she was living in a tranquil she could not describe! She had been given a soul as she loved the prince so much she risked her life for him. The end." Erik placed his hand over Meg's belly whose giggle turned into a yawn.

"All right, Meg, it's time for bed, I think you'll sleep with me tonight, instead of the dormitories," The ballet mistress of two years walked in, wearing her nightgown and her long, red hair down her shoulders, "Say _Bon Nuit_ to Uncle Erik," Her voice remained quite strict.

After mumbles of good nights and thank yous, good byes and see yous, Erik exited the room with a sigh, his hands digging into his pockets as he caressed the little box that held all his anxious glances, an engagement ring.

**AN: YO! well, im supposed to be on vacation right now but i just had to write and plus, i had to do my homework :(! Hope you liked this chapter, and keep your socks on! cuz you aint seen nothin yet!haha, bad reference, and did you see the lil phantom 1943 reference i put in there? hehe...so i need your brain powers and comments to fuse a nuclear energy enough to thwack carlotta off the stage, so critique? thank you very much, y'all!**


	20. Chapter 19

"I want to attempt something." Erik merely murmured, his smooth-shaven left cheek brushed against her forehead, as she rolled over in her bed that somehow was less spacious than she recalled. His arms found their way through the white sheets and around her. After years of squeaking after his several surprise visits, she was somewhat used to the hands that would find their weight on her.

"What is it?" Ann rolled, her eyes opening before driving her head toward his chest. Before she could continue, one arm comfortably grasping over his sleeved arm, the contrast of her skin, the contrast of that white mask against the darkness...and then three of those long fingers grasped her chin, softly. And his lips were own hers, and it was a sudden blast of recklessness. How many years ago has it been since she had spent her free time with him below and all those times he decided to act like such a brat, and now why were his lips on her? Her thoughts concentrated on the fact this was Erik, Erik in her bed at God knows what hour of the night, who had been next to her side, kissing her and the weird thing was that she liked it. The thrill was exhilarating, by the end of it all, she ended up gasping for air and Erik was sitting up, taking one of her hands, and smiling like a child.

"I wasn't supposed to do that, was I?" Erik let out a laugh.

"Well, besides from the fact you are in my bed kissing me, no, that was not appropriate," Ann grinned, eyes closing.

"Ann-"

"Shh...I'm tired and I have class tomorrow," For a second, her fingers longed to take off that mask. Was it natural for someone born to be ugly and unloved to be so beautiful, so startling beautiful that she could never tell him. His frustrated expression was one to be laughed at, but before she could continue, a bunch of incoherent phrases left her and she had fallen asleep, and Erik angrily made a fist. No matter what, it would never feel normal, something beyond his comprehension, and as his eyes sneaked glances at her, he was at ease.

"I think I love you," He muttered before standing up and leaving the room, silently blending in with darkness. He threw one glance at her. Was he capable of loving anyone, would her acquaintance mean anything more than that?

* * *

The next morning, Ann instinctively wrapped her arms around the place where her husband would have laid, where Erik had laid last night and all those times when they, rather she, had fallen asleep there so naturally. Her eyes droopingly opened, sensing he was not there, that her arms had only grabbed a handful of pillow.

"Erik," She breathed, half conscious but registering what her mind wanted and her eyes closed again, her heart feeling unusually dull. A few minutes later, she forced herself to get out of bed and begin preparing for the rest of the day. After slipping on undergarments and petticoats, she sat down for some breakfast, absentmindedly flipping through the stack of letters she had meant to go through days before. She took a small look at the small piles of letters from Erik, ranging from when he had practiced so hard on his penmanship to an elegant cursive only he would have considered ugly writing. And her eyes caught on a letter addressed to Monsieur J. Giry. Who would write to her her dead husband, it had been years since he had passed away, and Ann flinched, thinking of yet another disappointment in her heart today for just thinking of what could have been made her want to cry, but she set forth to open the letter. Jules, Jules, Jules. Sometimes her heart felt ready to burst to see Meg, to see herself, living in the opera house was a constant reminder even though she had moved to a bigger room. It read:

_Monsiuer Jules Giry,_

_I dearly hope you remember your old instructor, you were always a talented violinist, superb. Anyways I do not know, have I found you at last? There was no address, no way of keeping contact with you anymore, why it was like you just disappeared! I just assume you have children to take care of now! I cannot write much on but I have much to tell you, no doubt you are still in the orchestra or maybe far better than that? Your life must be pleasant, or you should remember you need it be. But things are not the brightest for me, because Jules, I am dying. Something of a disease crawling into my systems, I feel like an untuned violin, in fact the very same one I taught you with sits by my bed side and I ask for one thing if it not to much. Please take care of my daughter. Her name is Christine, and she's such a lovely child, brightens up everyone when she smiles, and my heart aches with leaving her but...could you consider anything? She could join the dancers, be a student but just near to you. for she's a shy child, for she isn't close to anyone because we have traveled around. That's all I want for her, clouding her with fairy tales can only temporarily delay from what I feel will quickly take me away from her and she is all I have in this world. Jules, take her, come to Perros where I am residing and take her away, those are my last wishes._

_With all the best regards,_

_Gustave Daae_

Ann sat back in shock, all these years she had forgotten when what was it, five or six years back when Jules had mentioned him and at the time a baby around Meg's age? The Swedish violinist was most certainly ill, his writing was nearly illegible at points and the writing curving, the paper crumpled at the edges. There were stains all over the paper but he still maintained a dignity that proclaimed himself to be the famed Gustave Daae. She had made up her mind, she had to take in this Christine, a stranger child of a stranger she would promise to care for and felt compelled to because of what Jules was to her. She decided not to write back but hurry to the location he had mentioned impulsively, absentmindedly stuffing a spare change of clothes into a piece of luggage before racing out to find Monsieur Leverfve and she must have looked like a wild woman, and she quickly regretted not talking to Meg of anything. She had no idea it would be the first of several decisions that Meg would never know and still stand by her side, poised and graceful. Christine Daae. A million denials were rushing through her head, how would she support two little girls? How would she explain the child? Would she even speak French? Was she just going to leave her class at last minute?Whatever questions for popping into her head, she talked to the manager who kindly stuttered and allowed her to take a ride there. And as she set out, a pair of forgotten eyes followed her like a cat would. And so she would find herself at length away in a place all by herself to help the man who once aided her husband. Taking a breath she then found herself through directions and thinking of Jules and so when a little girl slightly taller than her own Meg opened the door, curly brown hair unruly and long with sad, telling brown eyes that flickered back and forth indecisively, oh what a little fawn she was! She was visibly six years old, a red scarf around her neck and under one arm, a giant storybook, and her giant eyes searching her own face. So this was Christine. And she heard herself saying, "I'm here to see your Papa,"

**AN: School's rolling in again! I'm still on vaca but going home soon :) Sigh, my Victorian love is burnin higher than ever! This was kind of rush but ah, after twenty chapters and if you have stayed with me, there's little Christine! Thanks for reading and now to figure out how _someone's _gonna respond...**


	21. Chapter 20

"Meg, this is Christine," Madame Giry ushered the young girl forward, giving her a squeeze on her shoulders, the pale, frightened face looking at her daughter's, "She will be under our care now, you can think of her as a sister," The elder Giry smiled at the two girls. Sensing what to do, Meg reached out and grabbed Christine's arm gently.

"Come on, Christine," She eased her into a walking pace as she linked her arms with the new girl she thought would become her new friend.

"Hi," Christine looked curiously around the opera house, her eyes focusing on large amount of people laughing and walking around the backstage of the renowned theater.

"You like it? I've lived here all my life with my maman," Meg smiled a smile that betrayed the fact she had missing teeth.

"Oh," Christine looked down.

"Well, where did you come from?" Meg questioned.

"Um, I mostly live in Sweden but after that, when Papa got really sick, we went to Perros, by the sea. In hopes he would get better and he told me stories and I have a friend whose name is Raoul and he was very nice, especially when Papa would be really sick and cough and not be able to tell me stories and then sometimes…some…" She trailed off, biting her lips after her nervous talking.

"What's wrong?" Meg creased into an expression that was reminiscent of her mother whenever she was confused.

"I just miss papa so much! " Christine began wiping at her eyes and rambling on about her beloved father. Furrowing her eyebrows, Meg started to pat her softly on the back.

"It's Ok, Christine," But she only started crying louder, sniffling.

"I miss my papa!" Christine sobbed, crawling into a fetal position on the floor as Meg was confused to what to do other than to sit next to her.

"Christine…" Meg began as she suddenly felt a soft lullaby at her ears. Giggling, she rubbed at her ear and looked up. Erik flashed a teasing smirk from above and Christine's red and puffy eyes confusedly glanced at Meg, her mind thinking the girl too different.

"Crybaby?" Erik whispered into her ear, "Who is she?"

"Her name is Christine, now leave me alone!" Meg laughed, as Christine looked around in confusion and began whimpering.

"Who is that you are talking to?" Christine looked wherever Meg looked.

"Forget about that, Christine," Meg removed the issue as she did with all her other friends whenever Uncle Erik decided to voice his opinions. Chuckling to himself, he balanced himself on the wooden beams and wandered off to find the ballet mistress.

* * *

It was a Sunday and Antoinette Giry decided she needed some time to organize her thoughts and her little, cozy apartment when a knock came to her door. Was it the pitiable, little Daae girl and her Meg? Her heart yearned for Jules when he was mentioned so admirably by the man who seemed ageless even on his deathbed. Gustave Daae was one who just drew well from people and he was not only a wonderful musician but a man of moral and manner. It was a somber occasion, talking with him as he entered fits of coughing or when he unconsciously fell asleep. Sitting up from her bed, she quickly flipped her long braid of hair behind her shoulders. Opening the wooden door, she came to face the left side of Monsiuer Reyer, the current manager of the opera house.

"Ah, Madame Giry!" He tipped his head in acknowledgement to her as she did a tiny curtsy, "I have been meaning to talk to you for some time,"

"Why, do come in, then!" She hesitantly ushered him into her room, regretful she would now lose her Sunday.

It was peculiar to see him shift from one foot to another, and finally after the door closed, he looked at her like she was a math problem waiting to be solved.

"Madame, I just wanted—I ju—I mean, oh pardon me…It's just that I wanted to tell you that I respect you as a member of our theater, you are so exquisitely lovely, I mean, …you really bring out the best in the ballerinas." He finished too enthusiastically. Then her mind jumped to Erik. Was it him, another one of his inspired jokes/bribe attempt? Mon Dieu…

"I don't quite understand, Monsieur Reyer," She dodged his eyes while eyeing a chair in notion for him to take a seat. He sat down and stood up.

"Just wanted to tell you, I am your friend and your needs are my needs!" He twiddled the edge of his mustache and smiled, "Good day!" He inclined into a deep and sharp bow as he opened the door and exited, his footsteps first rapidly and then slowly decelerating after a few seconds away from the door.

Sighing, she was relieved the conversation was less than she expected but her eyes rolled at the awkwardness that must have been. As she headed back into her room, a pair of firm hands caught her in the waist as her scream was muted by the invader's gloved hands. With the hands loosening, she finally recalled who it was: Erik.

"He was definitely smitten with you," He let go of her.

"And did you have anything to with it? You are blackmailing him again?" Antoinette questioned, sitting down on her bed.

"That is a good idea. You could make a wonderful villain." Erik smoothed back his hair unconsciously.

"No, not now, I have two little girls to call my own now," Ann smiled at him, tilting her head slightly, "Did you meet her yet?"

"The new girl who joined today? With the curly hair?" Erik scrunched his eyebrows together and looked quite comical.

"Yes, that's her. Poor darling, her name is Christine Daae," Madame Giry proclaimed.

"Daae. Sounds….Scandinavian." Erik commented.

"Yes, her father was my Jules's violin instructor all those years ago. I could only think of him and his wish," She began shaking her head.

"I see…" Erik shifted from one foot to another.

"Will you keep an eye out for that? The other girls can be cruel and she's just so innocent!" She reasoned, "It's only been a few days after he died,"

"Do I look like I care?" Erik questioned a sardonic expression on his face.

"Well you spend all day up on that fly space, what do you do?" Ann teased him jokingly.

"I'll see, maybe, if it amuses me."

"Just watch out for her," Ann repeated.

"Why would Christine Daae cross my brilliant mind? I have more more priorities than to follow a seven year old. Why don't you tell me to watch Meg? She has no father, her mother is the only _idiote _all the ballerinas have to face, and she's just as important as Mademoiselle Christine Daae," he reasoned.

"Meg has lived here her whole life and I know you would let nothing touch her," Ann reached towards her childhood friend who also had protected her so many times.

"I cannot wait until she's older and those suitors come flocking in," He sarcastically remarked, but then groaning like a wounded lion, "I'll watch over her. Who knows, maybe it will even be slightly interesting."

"Thank you so much," She leaned in, so used to her toes pushing upwards as her arms went around his neck and he instinctively and gently took her waist. Her lips had expected his left cheek, unmasked and like someone's hand after being in water for so much, cold and soft. But with his sudden movement, she found herself kissing him. The kiss lasted forever, it seemed, Erik's mind working like some dysfunctional clock. They found their way onto the bed and Ann pushed him away, gasping for air as he smiled a smile she hadn't seen in so long. And then, he took a deep breath, his lanky, thin brown hair smoothed back once more, and his eyes flashed a sort of low confidence but he continued. Letting one knee down, he kneeled on the ground before Antoinette Giry, and asked, "Will you marry me, Annie?"

**AN: And we are another chapter closer to finishing! SO TIRED…waiting for my AP Physics HW to just pop up and kill me as it does everyday…SO MUCH BLOODY HOMEWORK! Who knew sophomore year was going to be like hell? AGHHH….need to finish this story though…have another one in mind…and I just created a book club! YAY! And ergh…cheer me up. Please. I hope I did and thanks for reading…**


	22. Chapter 21

"I-I can't," Ann stood up, hands clasped over her mouth and quivering out of fright. Erik staggered back, wounded by her refusal, angered at her reaction.

"_Merde, _Ann_, Merde_!" Erik cursed, flinging the box out of sight.

"Erik, please understand," She begged, reaching for his face.

"There's nothing left to say," He yanked her hand away fiercely, "I am offering us a place of our own, and I just thought-Never talk to me again, get the hell away and never _touch_ me again," And with the familiar swish of his black cape, he started away.

Antoinette Giry absentmindedly walked down the row of ballerinas, the oldest in the front with the younger ones spread out in the back. She put her head down, her red braid falling down one of her shoulders as she tapped her cane three times, a deafening pounding on the stage floor.

"Go take a break, girls," She sighed, putting on an expression void of emotion. Her mind just kept recalling last night, the grasp of Erik's fury and the various screams of presumably scared people around the Opera House. With the girls taking twice at their strict ballet mistress's comment, they hurried off backstage quietly before erupting once out of her sight. SHe had found he ring later, beautiful and eloquent unlike the simple one from Jules and yet, not her. She did love the ring but it was a clash, like putting a monkey in a beautiful gown.

"Will we ever be learning?" Christine quietly asked Meg, her hair tied back from her face, her curls frizzier than ever.

"What do you mean?" Meg asked, fanning herself, before placing herself cross-legged on the floor.

"I mean, like reading books and doing math," Christine nudged, "I was learning before with Papa, he was teaching me and so was Mama Valerius" Her eyes began to get teary at mentions of her father again.

"Books? But we dance!" Meg stated, matter-of-factly.

"So we will not?"

"I guess you could, but I don't know why you would," Meg instinctively searched for the prima donna reading her lines from the libretto, "Our life here to dance and I wish to become a prima ballerina like my maman!"

"That's your wish?" Christine's eyes opened.

"Yes, Christine! Do you have a wish?" Meg smiled before dancing around.

"I don't know, maybe I want to be like Papa," Christine looked confused.

As Meg Giry was about to respond, the nearly seven-year-old was interrupted by a call to return to rehearsal, as she would for the next four years.

* * *

"Did I not say to head toward stage left at that measure?" Madame Giry, a fearsome instructor to behold now, impatiently tapped the floor, her voice harsh and demanding. Her eyes scanning for her own daughter, she began screeching, "Meg, how do you expect to become prima ballerina when you insist on slouching and being lazy? Work!"

After four years, the girls had noticed a sudden deterioration of their ballet teacher's attitude as changes filled the opera house. Monsieur Reyer had several times, made obvious attempts towards Ann and thinking her new determination to "motivate" the rats as a way for him to notice her. Along with that, a new prima donna had hailed from Italy after the last one retired with her eight cats. Changes happened to Ann too. She suddenly was confused, for denying Erik all those years ago, to tell her she was a stronger woman then the one life expected her to be. She had obviously screwed up everything and yet, through so much, she still would not have married Erik. Though she would never admit it, to become Madam Destler would be horrible, it was horrible to her as a teenager at the thought she would be a nobody when she wanted more focus on her career, and later it was a frightening fact to deal with Erik's tantrums. Yet she wanted to comfort him, she wanted that recklessness she felt with him. Yet she could not have married him, not now, not ever in this world. Some nights she did yearn for him and had come to the realization she could not hate him and yet she would never be able to love him as much as she wished she could. Her love was budded from a pity that grew to an admiration of the gentlemen he was and his ability to be so…pretty.

"Work, work, work! Do you think anyone would come to see you dance? You would bore them all!" She rambled on as the girls dared to roll their eyes at her, crossing their arms defensively, "Again!"

After several tries, she dismissed the girls, some who quickly lost their tempers and some who lost the reason to be mad as they found other distractions. As always, Christine found her way next to Meg, who was quite fond on having her best friend. At eleven, the two were as close as the sisters Mama Giry expected them to be.

"Today would have been Papa's birthday," Christine sighed, as Meg braced herself for another round of daddy issues.

"Why don't you ever talk about your mama?" Meg questioned, after that day four years ago, Meg lost herself a doting godfather. She had asked her mother about Uncle Erik several times and on good occasions, she was told he went back to the country and on bad occasions, it was a glaring look and a warning to keep quiet. He was, after all, the father she never had.

"Maman? Sometimes I don't even think I have a mama," Christine shrugged, her French had improved greatly over the years, "I pray every night I have Mama Giry to take care of me,"

"I'm so tired today! Maman doesn't even care I'm her own daughter! I bet she won't even make me prima ballerina!" Meg complained, taking off her shoes as they approached the entrance of the dormitories the girls were sharing.

"I can't believe Papa has been dead for so long!" Christine continued as the girls began changing out of their costumes and Erik walked the walls above the rooms. It had become a sickly habit, to watch these girls change, and mostly it was the older girls, to see their disgustingly happy faces, and to think of Ann still. He, of course, saw everything and knew the threats that would get them screaming and yet, he missed a simpler life. By now, he was nearing thirty years old, and his hair was balding faster than usual, especially on his right side, where his deformity was. Granted, he preoccupied himself to look better and yet at the same time, he knew it would appall Ann to see how he looked like now. He followed himself to see the only family he probably had, Meg and that dratted Christine. What was she? Some distraction Ann found to take Christine away from her? What was Antoinette thinking of? But no matter what conclusion he came to, it was all the same. He was too horrible and he wanted to be more. If he were already damned, he might as well kept on with havoc. But his thoughts trailed back to the sound of Christine's bell-like voice as a delicious amount of flesh was visible to all he could see among the ballet rats.

"I found out they have a chapel here, and that I can remember papa by lighting a candle there, I feel so safe there," Christine smiled dreamily, "You should come with me today!"

But kneeling for an hour or more in a quiet sanctuary was not how eleven year old Meg Giry wanted to relax.

"Oh, Christine, I am much too tired," She announced, plopping unto her bed.

"Fine, I will be back before supper," Christine replied, after a moment's hesitation.

Meg nodded, waving a goodbye before Christine started toward the chapel. Erik blinked once; he finally had the opportunity to talk to his Meg all by himself! She was all grown up now to see her every day, taller and prettier, slender and thoughtful, and so much like her mother in the many ways she should not have been. Before he knew it, he had ultimately made a choice that would forever change all their lives. He placed one foot in front of the other and began following Christine Daae.

**AN: SO scared of school, especially physics :(**

**PLEASE HELP! But this weekend's gonna be awesome! Phantom at the Pantages and then Lez MIs 25****th**** anniversary! WOO! But wait…FIRST PHYSICS TEST ON MONDAY! AFTER MY HAPPY WEEKEND? And thanks to all you reviewers for reviewing!**


	23. Chapter 22

Her gracefulness was surprising for someone that simply _failed_ during rehearsals despite the fact she put in effort. However following an eleven year old was not at all hard, and so Erik followed. Finally, Erik gasped to see the very same chapel that one of the trap doors lead to in the tiny room, the first room he had entered through in the opera house lightened only by a few candles. As far as he could see, the very one Christine was lighting had the shortest and she began speaking in that childishly soft voice of hers.

"Papa? Are you listening?" Christine began tucking her curly hair behind each ear, and as she looked up expectantly, Erik tried to hide. Frightened of someone who could start sobbing when her fellow ballet rats called her a cow? She clearly needed to learn some lessons, learn some attitude issues and be a women like Meg or his Ann-no. He would not bring up that damnable, infernal little _salope._ He cringed, he could not even think of directing such language to her. She was everything to him at that point, whenever he woke up and the last he thought of before drifting off into a sleep more relaxed than ever. But she rejected him and after four years, he still had nightmares of her laughing at him, Ann a giantess laughing at him for being ugly and never being able to find a girl that loves him, that would want to degrade themselves to be his wife. He could feel his anger boiling and he instinctively smoothed back his hair, now having taken on a wig in an impeccable fashion. After stealing some of the magazines the ballerinas loved to read, he was determined to change his style and immediately started on making clothing of all sorts, a suit for himself, several more gowns he deemed more stylish than the ones he had made when he was younger, and finally, clothing for the porcelain dolls one might see in the windows of a toy shop. Breathing in, he focused back on Christine merely to stop thinking of Ann. It was difficult but the child's obvious _stupidity_ somehow made up.

"I have been very good, Papa, do you know? Even my very best friend Meg tells me that she wishes she were me because Mama Giry is so kind to me," Christine smiled, as Erik thought about the words. So she came here to converse with her dead father, "I wish they could understand me even though they are so kind. You were the only one that knew how to make me so very happy and make me feel pretty. Oh, Papa, the other girls laugh at my hair whenever it is rainy! What should I do? I wish I could tell them that but everyone's thinking always stay the same, they will never see past what they should see past and pick their giant noses into everything else!" And she began sobbing, tears that she was unashamed of, flowing freely down her face, "I wish it was the way it was, away from this place, with just me and you and everyone saying how adorable I was! Oh, Papa, I miss you so!" A wind blew in through the windows as the room grew quieter, the lone girl sitting on her knees as the candle flickered. Erik then felt as if he could relate to this little ballet rat. What was she doing here dancing when she was better off selling flowers in the street or back home in Sweden? That cursed Ann who had to rescue people only to make them forever her slave, in her stupid debt. Dratted Antoinette! She was that little deceiving snake that would just bite you off later and then ignore you as if you were a bothersome fly. His nostrils flared as he bit on his lips, tired of defending Antoinette from the reality sinking into his mind that she never truly cared for him. And yet, he could only hate himself more for that, that she would always be the woman for him. She was lovely and graceful, her voice was recognizable and that feeling he got…that was indescribable. He told himself several times not to live in the past and for the first time; he shed himself of that ignorance. As he took a breath to steady himself and placing himself into a crouch on top of the wooden beams, he realized Christine standing up. After all, he did not keep track of how fast time flew by and his shock of the fact she was leaving subdued. But she did not leave. Standing up and smoothing the fabric of her ballerina outfit, standing awkwardly unlike the other girls so used to standing one foot facing the right, the other left. Here, she took a breath and closed her eyes. In a whisper, she said, "Oh, Papa, why can you not send the Angel of Music as you said you would?"

And then she took another deep breath and out came a melody hummed with words following. She was singing, softly but then louder as she grew more confident.

"Ensam går jag här och vankar,

Söker efter vännen min

Ensam går jag här och vankar,

Söker efter vännen min

Se, jag möter honom här,

Han, som är min hjärtans kär

Vill du såsom förr med mej

Svänga om I dansen säj?

Tral la la la, la la la la,

La la la la la, la la la la la" After taking a breath, her teary eyes once again wandered to the ceiling, covered with angels, "Papa, can you hear me? I love you very much,"

With a sniffle, she blew out the candle and hurried back, leaving behind the company she didn't know she had behind. Erik sat alone in darkness but in a figurative sense, this little girl was just as lonely as he. She regretted not listening to Ann and paying more attention to Christine. Instead, he spent his days waiting for Ann. Realizations slapped him in the face. He guessed that it was god fatherly instincts that came in while coming to terms. But her voice! It was beautiful and angelic, maybe with a bit, no, a lot, of help; it could evolve into something lovelier. Her Swedish had deteriorated a little, a byproduct of trying to learn French as well. Her voice, though, had a potential that made Erik slightly cocky. At eleven and singing childhood folk songs, it was almost a blessing as Ann with her ballet! Enough thinking about Ann, there was too many stray thoughts in his introverted mind, too much to concern one. Thinking about it with a smile, he laughed out loud obnoxiously, his laugh reverberated in the empty chapel being the first sound he had made after following Christine Daae. He could most certainly tackle another project.

**A/N: YO! Haha…and the rest is downhill (thank goodness I DON'T have to calculate THAT) and so watch out for the next few chapters, I would really like to thank my reviewers, especially Spot and elizabethbennet3553 (thank you, it means a lot that you recommended my story to Firefly Conlon :) What else? NOTHING EXCEPT I WATCHED PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AND FELL IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN WITH THE PHANTOM ON OCT 2, 2010! So, the song Christine sings is all thanks to a wonderful thing called internet, I thought, matched her and here' s the translation:**

**(Translation of a Swedish Folk Song: I walk alone and wander here, looking for my friend. I walk alone and wander here, looking for my friend. Look, I meet him here, He, who my heart holds so dear. Say if you will dance with me, as you did before?)**


	24. Chapter 23

"Meg! He spoke to me last night! I just knew he would!" Christine whispered as the two thirteen year olds were rehearsing. The new prima donna was belting out her aria like a mixture of a banshee and a dying cat.

"What?" Who?" Meg questioned, after twirling and finding her way to Christine's side.

"Him, of course. The Angel of Music!" Christine's laugh sounded like a bell.

"Christine! Stop fooling around!" Meg immediately straightened her poise as her mother walked by, cane in one hand and a stern expression of her face, once free of the frown lines she now possessed.

"Why, it's true! It's completely true!" Christine gave a comical expression meaning to be serious. At thirteen, the two had grown into completely different girls physically and emotionally. As the daughter of the ballet mistress, Meg was rather the leader of the rats rather than the subject of their bullying. She agreed with their complaints but still worked harder to become what her mother once was all those years ago. She could still see the passion in her eyes whenever she demonstrated a move to her students. Meg had grown beautifully, a ballerina in stature. However, for Christine, she was still lanky, but tall. Her hair was the same it was when she first arrived, that long ago time, when she was half her age. But clearly, she had forgotten all about Uncle Erik who indulged and spoiled her and filled her with wonderful stories. Or it had never wandered to that conclusion but the Opera Ghost so threatening to everyone who has ever lived in the Paris Opera House.

"Enough talking!" With a loud snap on the ground with her cane, everyone grew quiet except for La Carlotta and Piangi, both who rolled their eyes and practiced strengthening their facial muscles.

"Tell me after practice!" Meg whispered back to Christine, who nodded. Meanwhile Erik was above the opera house as always, eyeing Christine with such fondness and then thinking of the progress they had made. Just yesterday, he had made his presence known, not as Erik, or Opera Ghost, but the Angel of Music. It was an interesting move, she took it instantly, and she was not scared why she felt protected. So after a few years of eavesdropping on Christine, there was much to be discovered about her. One, she may not have been as stupid as he expected, no, she was naïve. And that the more you look at her, the more you…love her. You love her and how pretty she is, like all those old villagers Christine knew. Christine revered him for finally arriving at her side and at once, she thanked her father. It was a pleasant distraction away from the Girys. Whatever it was, he found himself above their dormitory room. Christine was humming happily as Meg was changing. Then the two girls plopped unto Christine's bed and Christine started talking on and on about expecting her angel. Meg laughed, seeming to forget her own personal visits from a voice back when she was young. Aghast, Erik decided how he would wreak havoc. Pleased with such wonderful progress, he strolled to another one of the mirrors, which was placed in La Carlotta's dressing room. The disgust of that woman! Not only was she dreadfully annoying repulsive but she couldn't sing properly without breaking glass. Just thinking of her made him shudder, like he had to kill someone to get rid of the annoyance he felt. Whatever it was, he decided he should retire to his lair for a peaceful ending to a peaceful day. After all, he had oversaw his opera house with Monsieur Reyer (that baby!) agreeing to his consent and him wreaking _some_ havoc by replacing Carlotta's costumes with ones of a much smaller size. Yet something was holding him back, guilt of finally interfering with the teenage Christine and seeing Meg just reminded him so much of that lovely, hard-headed woman. Yes, he admitted he would spy on her, to see her contemplating in front of vanity blankly, to nod in correspondence to the letters he would place in the manager's office. And so, he turned left and headed for a room he had not entered in at least five years. By now, they could have been married and happy, or at least he would. By now, they would still be the best of friends. But she had to deny him so he would reject her forever.

Sighing, Antoinette Giry, a ballet mistress of some years now proceeded to undoing her black dress. Black every day, plain and ordinary, the proper wear of a mourning widow and teacher. She absentmindedly went through all the same actions, her red hair still vibrant as always with a few exceptions betraying her age.

"Giry," His strained voice made her turn around in shock, still familiar after all these years, just like that very first time he popped up again. He stood there, tall and dressed as if he could afford to see opera every night. Then without a thought, the two were hugging, his hand caressing her head with the braid having gone loose and her arms around him. It was ridiculous to think of how they looked but all she could think of was Erik. He was back and he had forgiven her! He took her hand as she adoringly gave him a kiss. Thoughtless as it was, he groaned after she released him but held on to his hand.

"Erik," She whispered, holding tightly on his hand.

"Madame," This time, the way he said it was not lightheartedly but seriously, "I need some help."

"Anything, love," She desperately called out, tugging once more at his hand. With a link of his arms, he smothered her with another hug. The way she had just called him love so distractedly made him yearn for her in his life even more. Coldly, this time, he shrugged her off.

"You remember Christine Daae?" It was awkward to say her name out loud, almost wrong.

"Why yes, of course, she's like a daughter to me," Madame Giry nodded, a maternal instinct drumming in.

"Well then, I need you to help me get to know her more, I see prospect in her." Erik matter-of-factly stated.

"What?" Ann's heart was sinking. Her best friend was not back for her, but to defend Christine?

"You heard me; I need you to help me,"

"Why?" He had countless other diversions, music to well, herself.

"It's been quite dull living below everyone," He made a motion with his long fingers.

"You didn't have to," Ann added in quietly.

"Like how you didn't want to marry me," Erik snarled back.

"Erik, please, don't fight now, we've both suffered-"Ann pleaded.

"WE?" He retorted, "You don't mean that."

"Erik."

"I do not wish to discuss this, just listen to me," He breathed in sharply.

"I won't help you!" Ann turned to face herself in her vanity mirror and there stood her, frightening older than ever. She quickly shrugged the thought and turned to Erik.

"You shall help me, Antoinette Giry," He demanded, his fingers enclosing on her wrist, and the other hand fingering through her braided curly hair, undoing the knot that held it together on her head.

"No! I will not blindly give away one of my girls to a, to a monster!" The words came out colder than she ever thought she would be capable of.

He immediately let go of her and something about the atmosphere gave them both a feeling of doom. "She's mine," And with that final word, Erik stormed out from the shadows of the grayish room.

"Oh God," Annie closed her damp eyes, not at all prepared for the sudden war between the two.

**A/N: Hey** **there people! PSATS! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! So I wanted to show Erik before the possessive Christine state and voila to this chapter and finally a reunion! WOO! Sigh, I'm so tired…thanks for reading and reviews are my energy bars!**


	25. Chapter 24

"You are so wonderful, Angel!" Christine's laugh echoed around in the chapel, as she clapped her hands jubilantly.

"Thank you, child," Erik could only give himself a satisfied smile.

"Will you tell come again tomorrow?" Christine questioned, a confident smile, refusing to be removed.

"Yes, of course, Christine," He tried to keep his voice sedated despite feeling ever so joyous and unable to control himself. She was most definitely _his_. With a bounce of her curls, Christine blew out the candle and whispered a farewell before racing back to her room.

"At the chapel again?" Meg didn't even bother to look up from the fashion catalogue.

"Yes," She nodded, taking off her shoes and her dress. By now, she had not bothered to continue defending the existence of her angel of music. She could remember the first time she talked to Meg and her eyes just opened up incredulously.

"You seriously think you hear voices in your head?" She had asked, deviously smiling.

"Not in my head!" Christine replied.

"Okay!" Meg laughed, carefree of the state of affairs.

And so they were as they always were, two thirteen year old girls studying at the ballet dormitories.

"I'm tired," Meg yawned, before deciding she would get into bed.

"Okay," Christine by now had changed into a nightgown.

"Well, good night, wonder why Maman was so distracted during practice today." Meg pulled back the covers of her blankets.

Christine nodded as Meg blew out the candles, thoughtless of Christine. Thoughtless of how Christine was not like every other teenager like Meg was attempting to, want life's experience to be their guides. No, in the darkness, Christine saw best was a set determination to find herself, to convince even herself that the voices were not just hers and that progression meant not turning back to see all that ever mattered to her. What mattered to her now?

* * *

The day's rehearsal for the first show of the season was hectic as usual. She fought back the urge to roll her eyes as Monsieur Reyer attempted to appease Carlotta, who had thrown several, aimless fits. The orchestra had played delightfully horrid, her mind always wandering to Jules whenever she saw those young men in their work clothes playing the violin. The stagehand, Joseph, had been obviously drinking and changing the screens a scene too late. Her girls complained it was only rehearsal and they were tired. But the worse was when she had found a note on the floor addressed to the opera house manager. Antoinette did not mean to pry her affairs but the script was so painstakingly familiar, it was Erik. Erik writing to management, this was a first. He usually instructed her, he usually wrote to _her_. Goodness, she felt farther away from him than ever, like she was losing everything. She had lost everything because she was just so ignorant of it all, Jules to death; Erik to self-pity, and now even Meg to teenage hood. The note had read:

_Monsieur Reyer,_

_Fondest greetings to you, sir. I would like to make several points clear and I expect these modest demands _will _be followed. First of all, a salary of 50,000 francs per month will be acquired, why think of it as unassertive payment for the opera house or I assure you, you will not sleep easy as a ghost will not have the need to waste perfectly good hours to follow you in certainty of the fee. Leave them in Box Five, where I will be sitting for this season and the next and the box is mine if the pleasure is ever mine to bring some of my ghostly acquaintances as well. Along with that, be sure to inform your ballet mistress that she needs to put her daughter as prima ballerina, as Little Giry must ultimately deserves. I am quite indifferent with the current prima ballerina and as a note for your leading stars, well, what were you ever thinking? I understand such things called contracts are existent and so, Monsieur, I need not comment yet for I think there is none who is fit the role _yet_… Besides the points I have made that certainly are expected to be followed, have a fanciful evening._

_Opera Ghost_

Written in a vivid red, Ann's eyes lit up at the indifference Erik could write. Of course, she had delivered several letters, more on the simpler side, but this. Well, it just demanded authority and it seemed he was no longer joking. She knew Erik was angry and that was never a good thing. Antoinette knew the simplest way was to talk him out of this, yet she was involuntarily on his side, no matter what. Her heart was his and it ached to see little Christine smile every day and whisper of her beautiful Angel of Music. She shuddered to think of how Christine would respond if she ever did meet Erik and for now, Ann refused to believe this relationship between the two would be any harm. It kept Erik motivated and alive, even if he still refused to talk to her. She sighed, frustrated, and noting the time of day it was, pulled her plain dress tighter around her waist and began to set down on the journey to the cellars of the opera house, a road long not taken.

"Erik?" Her voice echoed through the halls, the tapestries around her exquisitely melancholy and dusty. Forgotten, it seemed, like everything else down there. Thinking of the splendor of that underground lake made her think of the gondolas in Venice Jules had once talked of and of magic, hypnotic magic. Following the path of the road spiraling downward, she looked down more in annoyance than in fear of the long road she had ahead of her as she switched the hand holding the lantern. She should not have taken this road, she thought it would be the most efficient being the one everyone knew leading to the bottom of the opera house, or at least the ones of her generation. The ones her instructors have talked of or perhaps it was another one… Stepping forward, she found herself plunging down, her stomach full of butterflies, as she let out a deafening scream she thought she would never be capable of after minutes of walking in silence. This was not how she would want herself dying, falling into some trap while trying to get down to the bottom of the opera house. She held on to the top of the railing, gasping for air and pushing her hair out of her face, her dress beginning to feel heavy on her. After a few seconds, she had realized the bar was closing down on her and soon she would be under water, choking to death. She let out noises, yelps of help. She wished she had brought her cane to at least hold her up and then she sank under, blowing bubbles into the water, eyes closed. Then she heard a faint churning and then two arms around her, then a heavy black fabric over her. She coughed out as she bobbed up and down, whoever's arms it was keeping a tight grip on her, their fingers tightening around her bare soaking body. She could only close her eyes and rest her head tightly on the person's chest. She rasped out more coughs, feeling nauseous from all the movement and the first thing she saw when she landed on a soft area was a white masked face with a disapproving frown, reaching for the fastenings of her dress. She coughed once more, pushing his hands away anxiously.

"No reason for that!" She snapped.

"Antoinette, you're wet," He murmured, one hand landing on her forehead with muted apprehension.

"I've been wet before," She closed her eyes to regain some lost energy in the minutes near death.

Erik's eyes glimmered with hilarity but his face remained stoic as he motioned toward a cabinet and headed out the area. After a moment's hesitation, she wandered to the drawers and pulled out something as undergarments from a decade back, some dresses he had presumably made, more fit for a ball than for normal wear. She finally settled on a burgundy dress and with some linens she had found, moth eaten, she wiped herself but her hair still laid dripping , a darker shade of red that highlighted her eyes even further, made her look less like the _demonic_ ballet instructor she had become. She had forgotten what Erik's lair had looked like and set herself off to explore, walking from one desk to his library of books, now expanded to several volumes. She found drawings scattered all over and one thing finally caught her attention, she found the word Christine scribbled several times along with faint sketches of her with the other unrecognizable ballerinas, sitting in the chapel, and most disturbingly, in her room. Near his organ laid sheet music and candles near burned out.

"Dinner is served," She turned around in shock. It was quite comical to Erik holding a bottle of wine in one hand and dressed like some server at a restaurant. But he looked very handsome, she had to comment. Handsome always.

"I'm sorry, it's been so long," She trailed off. Yes, it had been too long, too long to realize the man a gangly thirteen year old circus runaway had become. They were both in their thirties now and how frightening to see herself coiling into the image she had set during practices, that strict and uptight posture, unbending and independent.

"Yes, I daresay it has been," He looked angry for a second but his composition cooled.

"Oh, Erik…" She started toward him as he stood still, an expression that showed indifference and made Ann shudder as she stood stationary.

"No _merci_ necessary, let us just say you owe me," He smiled like he had won at last, Don Juan triumphant indeed.

**A/N: Yo…Things are not going the bestest huh? Well…Halloween is next week, whatcha gonna be? I'm going to be Eponine from Les Mis! And a happy anniversary to PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! WOO! No more to say but thanks once more!**


	26. Chapter 25

"Please. I need this chaos to stop!" Frustrated, Ann put one hand to support her head.

"What chaos?" He shrugged uninterestedly.

"You! Everything has changed and you make me feel so horrible, oh God!" She started sniffling, eyes turning red as she held down on the sleeves of the red dress, "Erik, why must you always act so idiotic? Don't you understand that the world doesn't revolve around you? That I'm trying so hard, so hard, darling," Her voice decreased to a mere whisper.

"I know that the world doesn't revolve around me, hence why I never get what I want. Like Christine Daae. Get me the girl." He eyed her intently, Madame Giry fumbling with the sides of her dress and Erik's eyes like two flames, making her twitch with every flinch.

"No, Erik, I will not. We are not teenagers anymore—"She tried to reason, as Erik cut her off.

"I'm lonely down there, you have everything you have up there," He waved her off.

"That's just the problem, we haven't had a real talk in so long and Erik, I don't have you up there," She could not believe the words coming out her mouth, how unrealistic it had sounded in her mind but made perfect sense out loud. She missed having a man there that she was more vulnerable than the independence she portrayed, and she missed the lazy days with Erik and Meg together. And that was just it; she lost the connection she once kept with Erik. Despite being only a few years older than Erik, she could see they were aging so differently and it scared her to think of growing further apart from Erik. Why, until now, she was just too busy to see it, "Erik, I just wish you wouldn't keep denying me a conversation now,"

"Well, it isn't my fault is it?" He derided.

"Yes it is! You're so _stupidly_ male!" She argued, livid as the tears still flowed down her eyes.

"Get on the bed," He muttered through his teeth after a silent pause.

"What?" She spluttered once more.

"I said, get on my bed!" Erik's voice rose.

"What are you talking about?" She was truly frightened now.

"Just go," He angrily reached for his tie and yanked it loose. Inching backwards, she grabbed hold something she could not identify and found her way to the swan bed. She felt like royalty to place her trained little feet onto the soft material and she sat there waiting, numb of pain. She remembered she was not wearing shoes, that the only ones she had were still wet, lying by the side and slowly she cried out the last of her tears, "Damn you, Erik, damn you!" She blubbered out softly. She slowly crawled into a comfortable position on her bed remembering only how an hour or two ago, she could have been safe in her own bed, nice and warm.

He stood in front of her, wearing a casual white shirt, slightly less formal and his black pants that illuminated his long legs. He reminded her of a spider, so many limbs it looked like and with a heave of his breath, his footsteps echoed through his lair, candles flickering all around. Ann shook her head, sitting up as Erik shushed her, sitting on the edge of the bed before climbing further into the head of the majestic bird bed, his arms went around her and with a spare hand, he took off his mask too fast to be accounted for. He was prepared for the reaction she would give and for seeing him the first time in years, she betrayed herself by letting out a gasp turned hiccup. She closed her eyes, terrified out of her mind, as Erik's arms wrapped around her protectively as her legs limped lethargically on the bed as he sat there, quite awkwardly like he had never been on a bed before.

"You said you wanted to talk, and then talk," His voice was soft and apologetic. Almost as a reflex of his words, she nestled herself and placed her head on his shoulder and leaning upwards to kiss him softly on the right side of his jaw, where the deformity laid.

"Things are getting so out of control," She sighed, wiping at her eyes.

"One thing, Annie. Do you want to change out of that dress? Yes, it is lovely, but not so very comfortable to sleep in, I assume." He eyed the very closet where she had discovered all the dresses. With an obedient nod, she changed into a comfortable white nightgown and had found a way back by his side again.

And so they talked. They talked about life, they talked about the opera house, and they laughed over jokes just like when they were two kids whose only home was the Opera House and whose only family was each other. Finally it was when Ann closed her eyes and yawned, had she realized how late it was.

"I'm so tired," Ann laughed, before snuggling closer to Erik, who bit on his lip, "Go to sleep, Erik," She whispered.

"I can't," He raised his eyebrows, throwing on a silly expression and forgetting for a second that his face was ugly as it was. He quickly turned to look the other way as if he meant for that to only be an accident.

"Well, good night," And she shut her eyes, soon accompanied by little breaths of air. And he really tried, he tried to fall asleep like a normal person and for once in a long time, the demons of his nightmares had not visited him, that continuous aching of a monster chasing him of his mother yelling at him and her turning into Christine and then all his fears launched into one.

Antoinette Giry woke up in the middle of the night, she presumed, as Erik's arm flopped over her, his lips parted and sleeping peacefully but not necessarily the most graceful she had seen him. His stomach was against the bed as another hand fell of the other side of the bed, and it was quite adorable to see him sleeping there, breaking down that wall of superiority to human functions. She felt an instinct to touch him, and so her hands ran through his hair, the warmth she felt wonderful and her hands touched his face but she quickly retracted when he closed his drooling mouth and frowned.

"Whatisit?" His mumble was almost inaudible through the pillow, muffled.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," She whispered back soothingly, thinking nothing of later but of now. She knew Erik would take her back in due time and now she was enjoying the pleasure of Erik's company again. She did not care to think of how unethical it was in this society.

"Mmmkay," He exhaled out groggily. And she giggled out loud, before pulling the blankets over his relaxed body and then hers, kissing him on the forehead before heading back to sleep.

The boy clearly had no respect for her sleeping though. She was awakened by the clamor of music, pounding and passionate. Blearily, she could identify the frustration and the sudden impulsive inspirations. But a few seconds had past and she had realized where she was. Yawning again, she walked toward him and he turned around with a humiliated smile, the mask returning on his face.

"What time is it?" She questioned, arms crossed and then reaching aimlessly for some discarded sheet music, all comfortingly familiar to her yet the music was so different than those she had been experienced with.

"Early morning," He returned to his organ, hunched over.

"How can you tell in here?" She looked around; hands on her hips, and eyes squinted to all the flickering candles.

"It's something you grow accustomed to." He reasoned.

Though the moment seemed fittingly perfect, Ann still felt the dread of awkwardness, that despite all of last night, he was still not satisfied. Taking a deep breath, she made a decision she herself was not sure of. She placed herself next to Erik on the bench as he turned to inquiringly glance at her.

**A/N: was not even sure I was going to get a chance to post this chapter before October and definitely, I think I'll finish this story, wrap it all up, by the end of this year. Ooookay! And hopes for lots of candy this Halloween, for I definitey want loads of candy and good grades…sigh…so depressed over my grades, my GPA, it so not me….thanks again for reading!**


	27. Chapter 26

"I think you are well prepared for an enjoyable vacation," Erik couldn't contain a smile.

"What?" She frowned.

"You're staying down here with me," He growled, "Until you consent to marry me or you give me the girl,"

"What?" She yelped, "I thought things were good again!"

"Well, they are, so therefore, you_ must_ agree with me," He rationed.

"No, Erik, no," She started back as he lurched on to her with a tightening grip, "Please, I have to teach,"

"No, you do not, opera is out of season," He told her.

"But I still teach the girls, you know that," She tried to pry his fingers off.

"But you don't need to, and so make your choice!" He growled out the last part. At that moment, she loathed his immaturity, she loathed the way he made her so torn.

"I told you, Erik, I simply will not permit-"

"You make matrimony with me sound like it is a marriage with the devil himself," Erik rolled his eyes languidly.

"No, I cannot, and if it was even my will to allow you to my Christine, no!" She shook her head.

"Why? Why, Antoinette, do tell me why you will not," He took her by the chin and stared intently at her flinching eyes which could not look him straight back in the eye. With a heave of breath, he let her go and frustrated, walked off to face his cavern, hands on his hips, "My God, Annie, sometimes I swear, I want to kill you," With mild shock, she bit on her lip, she moved from one side to another on her toes.

"Well, we shall have lots of time for you to tell me," He put his hands together as if he had just suggested a tea party.

"Erik, I'm leaving," She began to run one of the several entrances of his lair before she was stopped by an inhumanly fast Erik.

"No, you are not," He held too her arms.

"Let me go!" She screamed, her two hands flailing about, trying to hit him.

"Stop it," He snarled before dragging her to one of the rooms and closing the door on her.

And so after three days of living with Erik, she knew she would not have it easy. He was utterly deranged now! It was disturbing to watch him talk to his little figurines that he made, cooing to the ones of Christine and then scrambling over to his organ and creating his music. Late at night was when the inspiration struck the most, she could hear him whenever she tried to sleep on the swan bed. His obsessive and compulsive behavior was so unlike the teenager she had known. Or at least, it was awkward to see a grown man act so. She had overheard him reading aloud those etiquette books, referring to Antoinette as his wife while inviting friends over for a nice Sunday Brunch. She shuddered to think of that. Desperate as he was, remnants of Erik still remained or rather, it had been heightened. He was still passionate, stubborn, and brilliantly genius. And the weird part of it was, he didn't try to get the information out of her, he let her be but refused to let her escape. Every escape attempt she had tried in the past seventy two hours (about two to four per hour), she either ended up being rescued from his death traps or she had never even reached the point of being rescued. It felt like an eternity and it bothered her to not know what the time was or even what day of the week it was. She had asked him though, how were they going to explain her disappearance from Meg and Christine? He answered that they would be going on a nice trip to one of their fellow ballerina's house for the next few weeks. Next, few weeks he would hold her hostage then. But how were you going to explain to everyone else? Oh, he laughed mirthlessly, he was taking care of that, no worries necessary. She kept her calm, after all, what could one do when kidnapped by their best friend?

Meanwhile four miles away, Christine and Meg were on a carriage, probably the first time Meg had ever recalled being on a carriage. They bounced up and down in the carriage, Meg constantly pointing out at people as Christine sat benign, timid of even the ordeal of having stayed at a friend's house. Throughout the years, she had come to see and depend on her Mama Giry so much as her own mother, that the desire was there to make her notice her as well, and that blind oblivion that Mama Giry was the only one who would sympathize with her losing her beloved father. Other than her Angel, of course, but she dared not tell Meg now. The two were like sisters, just like yesterday when they walked to the corner together to buy some bread and the elderly woman commented on how they obviously had good blood running in the family, they were both lovely girls. Meg had told her a lot of things and she was such a carefree girl.

"Look! That woman's dress is lovely, is it not?" Meg turned back to Christine and the other two girls facing them.

"Ugh, I do hope we make it home soon, I'm starving. I think Giry tries to starve us there," Jammes, the same age as Christine and Meg, put her arms protectively over her stomach.

"We're getting there," La Sorelli turned to face them with a dreamy smile.

"My father already bought next season's tickets, the first show is already next month and I can't believe Madame Giry had let us go on break." La Sorelli babbled, laughs erupting as easily as she could dance.

"It's so unlike her," Meg agreed, nodding her head.

"_Papa_, you know, Sorelli, you are so lucky to actually have a father who cares," Jammes snorted, glancing at the street vendors that they rolled pass.

"Or that's alive," Meg added. Then she forgot and she fearfully turned to Christine, her father's very eyes staring into Christine's shocked eyes. Her eyes betrayed it all, but she maintained a straight face and managed a weak smile, "Because you'll need that, when your mother's the ballet instructor of the Paris Opera House,"

And all the other girls chortled, waving hands and beautiful expressions of joy.

"My father is always away to Spain and Portugal and England on business," Jammes rolled her eyes with an all-knowing smile, "With his mistresses, Sorelli, you are such a _fille a Papa!"_

Suddenly Christine felt a surge of jealousy. Nonetheless she was distracted when Meg interrupted.

"You know," Meg started, "Have I ever told you girls about my uncle Erik?"

The girls nodded in response.

"Well, he was my mother's good friend when I was younger and to tell the truth I don't remember that much that he was the closest I had to a father in my life, because I do not remember my own papa. Anyways, Erik would spoil me rotten and buy me jewelry and clothes. Oh, I loved him for not just that, but he was always there to pick me up whenever I fall, when Mama's too busy," at the last part she rolled her eyes, "But then…he stopped coming, and I could tell Maman knew why and that she was really hurt, she was never the same, I think and I don't know what happened. He made my world safe and he wrapped in a bubble yet I floated and I saw the world in this seemed so long ago, like a dream or a fairy tale I faintly remember."

"You never told us about him," Sorelli kindly took Meg's hand, urging her to continue.

"I don't know how to explain this, he was so surreal, I think of him now and all I see is a blank white face, masked. I was what, five? I remember I even wanted Maman to marry him or at least I wanted to!" She laughed, "I think I miss him so, and it makes me feel so curious like sometimes, I could swear I hear his voice still in the opera house, oh, this palace has its own secrets, it certainly does! He was a wonderful man, I thought. How I wish I could see him again, it's been so long, and his connection to my mother holds so many secrets and me, and well, yeah, Erik…" she trailed off, as each girl looked at her intently, Christine looking very concerned but probably for her own father.

"Was he, like, her lover?" Jammes raised her eyebrows with a laugh. "Gross, what I am saying! Who would love that selfish old cat lady?"

"Hey!" Meg glared at Jammes, and sighed. Jammes was the type who would later become some wealthy baron's wife and sit on her fat bottom all day gossiping with her card playing friends and a cat at her feet. She was an extremist of a sort while Meg could see herself succeeding her mother.

"I'm sorry, Meg, but that's so weird!" Jammes gasped for air like a hyena, "You think Erik and your mother had something? Something like lo-ove?"

"It seems logical and presumable, there's nothing that says they couldn't. Oh, there must have been and something had gone horribly wrong and he had left." Sorelli rationalized.

"Imagine that! Maybe Erik, his name sounds exotic, oh! Oh! Maybe he came from the East and he was a flamenco dancer or something and as they danced, that passion your mother wants us was so intense, like a flame, and they fell in love but Erik had been engaged not to one girl back home in Norway but six in Germany and Russia and even the Americas! Oh!" Jammes had literally doubled over in laughter. Her own story was compelling in aspects, but yet that did not seem like the case. Something beyond a fling like the ballerinas had, Jammes herself flirting with all the crew, including the new stage hand, Joseph Buquet. However there was something and from that point, the urge to know scratched at her in the back of her head, wanting to know more.

"Christine, you're silent," Sorelli turned to Christine, who once again, smiled a lovely smile. What an actress she was. All was interrupted when the carriage lurched to a stop, one final bounce before Jammes squealed and mentioned again how hungry she was and she and Sorelli got out of the carriage followed by Meg. Meg looked up at in the carriage while adjusting her skirts and looked at a fervently blinking Christine.

"We're here, Christine, we're home," Meg looked down at her buckled shoes, her blond curls falling over the front of her shoulder.

"Home? Home is back there, home is where I want to be," Christine's stare was one of the most fierce she had seen Christine in the couple of years of inhabiting with her, like a mother lioness protecting her cubs, and with that said, she blinked back tears all of a sudden and with a head held high, she got off the carriage and rushed into the house, leaving Meg standing bewildered next to the carriage.

**A/N: YO…It's November now and er…the end of Phantom US tour! Tears…sighs…ay…ok thanks for reading! and ps...i didn't feel like editing so...yea...**


	28. Chapter 27

"Christmas sure is wonderful, is it not, Annie?" Erik walked from behind her as Ann put down the potatoes she was preparing to boil down in his cavern of a kitchen.

"It's not Christmas yet, is it? "It can't have been Christmas already, no matter how much she loves Erik, she was not going to spend a Christmas with him now, and she didn't have Stockholm syndrome and she wasn't planning to develop it. She turned around, dropping the knife she was using and grabbing for her face in shock. It had been nearly a week of cold, bed-tossing nights interrupted by fits of music, sounds she rather not questioned. Her hair was messily organized into a bun as Erik looked as he always did, polished. It occurred to her that life down in the lair was quite boring and fast paced. One second Erik was singing and the next he was working on building something and then he just disappeared altogether then unpleasantly found by Ann wading around his lake or going around the lair in his birthday suit. She cringed at the last part. How was she supposed to know that all the clothes she was washing and hanging up were his only pairs and that he didn't have time to order anymore because of his ghostly duties, rather misinformed that he did not wash his clothes. It was horror to see him calling her a fool and running around naked and finding out his only pairs of clothing were wet. Or just yesterday when she realized that his organ did not need dusting or cleaning up. Nevertheless, she was bored and he was so much more distant and less dependent on her as he was when he was younger. She sighed though, whenever she thought of poor, poor Erik.

"Of course it's not Christmas yet," He chortled, hand on his belly. Then he vehemently glanced at her, ushering her to finish dicing the potatoes that she had no clue of where they came from.

"Then why are you so excited now?" She thought of countless times he accepted her Christmas gifts with a polite thank you but muttered on about the stupidity of religion.

"Have you realized that, well, Christine has the same beginning as Christmas?" He smiled charismatically.

"No, I have not," She shook her head, chopping those potatoes.

"No, Antoinette, that's not the only reason." Erik shook his head, kissing her shoulder, "Christmas is such a _happy_ day."

"Okay…" She eyed him questionably but shrugged it off.

"When's the food ready?" He asked, after a break of silence,

"Since when were you hungry all the time?" she asked and indeed he had partaken in dinner more often.

"What, you make good food?" He gave her shoulders a squeeze as she flinched, then he walked away. Ann turned to watch him walk away, sighing and quizzical at his happy mood.

* * *

They sat at the ends of his ornate table, eating potatoes with wine with heavy forks and knives. He happily stuffed the large white napkin and tucked it into his collar, fluidly digging into the food. Ann was still very confused. He took daring dips from his wine glass and took lavish bites and somehow looked just like a vulnerable and hungry boy.

"Have I mentioned you are a wonderful cook?" He questioned with food in his mouth.

"You never talk to me when you eat," Indeed, usually he was either reading something and he almost never actually sat down with her. Funny how she never noticed his progression to this moment after the few days, for he seemed more accustomed to someone else living with him.

"Really?" He smiled a stupid grin she never thought she would see.

"Erik. What happened?" She sighed, gently putting down her fork and sipping down some of the wine.

"_Mon Dieu_, Annie, am I usually not like this?" And that quote frightened her just a bit. He had obviously not forgotten Christine despite her being away.

"I don't know why, I feel needed," He led on, a clever ploy for her to act concerned, "Needed by a woman, my, what a Don Juan I am!"

"You mean Christine," She answered bluntly.

"Yes, Christine, because you damnable, accursed bitch never needed me, you were too independent," That crooked smile was scarier by candlelight.

"That is not true!" She reasoned, thinking of all the times she was frightened out of her wits, when Meg had not stopped crying, when her students threw cruel taunts at her, when Jules died, when Erik was being beaten up all those years ago. All those times, she needed him. But she never wanted to show it and now she was here.

"Insane, eh?" He picked up his violin from the side of the table, Ann staring in oblivion, and randomly started playing something.

"Yes you are, Erik Destler!" She ran up to him and grabbed the violin out of his hands, wrapping her arms around him, and kissed him fiercely. With his tightening arms, she pulled back from the kiss, "Now do you know how much I need you? Now let me go back."

He muttered something incomprehensible about women and groaned, refusing to let her go.

"Why stop all the fun then? Opera doesn't begin for another week; Meg's not coming back until next week. She noticed how he did not mention Christine.

"Is that all you wanted to hear? That I need you? That I needed you to be a father to your goddaughter and to stop us from being on the streets? That you've been so good to us?" She asked a silent Erik.

"Shut it, Ann, you know you don't need me," He grimaced.

She gave him a slap and he only laughed.

"But no. I feel needed by everyone in this goddamn world, I make life fabulous!" He smiled maniacally, ," He continued to mutter and Ann tried to escape his grasp.

"Let go, Erik," He let go of her as she staggered back.

"Say, after you finish cleaning up the table, do you want to go on a walk to the gardens?" He had already started his way to some other part of the lair.

A breath of fresh air seemed pleasant, and suddenly she wondered how Erik could live in this damp and cold environment, away from sunlight. This whole week had been an adventure, her trying to regain normality by doing regular household chores and feeling lovely again in all his colorful gowns, though fashionably late but still lovely. She took time to think, to read, to attempt talks with Erik. And wiping her hands on her apron after absentmindedly cleaning the table, she started for the path, not even thinking of escape now. Before she knew it, Erik linked arms with her as she gasped.

"Oh, I must look horrible," She reached for her dirty apron, her unmade face, her messy bun.

He only laughed, "You'll look like a dream next to me," His laughing did not however, interfere with his serious tone and she had forgotten all about that, "You're beautiful Annie, so damn beautiful,"

She still was not convinced and she took off her apron and pulled her hair into another bun, as Erik stopped her, "Let your hair down,"

"That's not acceptable" She continued as he frowned. Nevertheless, he shrugged and they began the long walk up. It seemed like an eternity and for once, she took time to notice everyone walking down and the café in front of the opera house to the flower girls outside. She turned to notice Erik heavily cloaked, despite the setting sun. Yet they wandered through the streets, Erik stopping to drop heavy pouches of money for thankful homeless and he took time to eye the prostitutes who eyed him with no regard for Ann. She immediately felt horrible for rejecting Erik all those times and even jealous of his attention for other girls. For Christine. And she realized, she was jealous of Christine, and of those prostitutes shooting him glances. What right do they have of that, they did not know her like she did, did not enjoy the recklessness and utter content she felt, well, right now as he held her arm and she turned to look up at him, his sad face managing a smile under the cloak, under the mask. They found themselves a few feet from the gardens where Jules had once taken her, she could remember so clearly but Erik kept his grip on her arm and they were steered in another direction. All of a sudden, their aimless talks ceased as Erik walked confidently into the tiny church as if he was a practicing Catholic all this time. Ann stopped to imagine a religious Erik. She followed a minute later, outside already darkened with the night sky, and felt a surge of warmth as candles flickered familiarly. He took no attention, kneeling in front and the ballet mistress realized there was so much she never bothered to learn about Erik's life and yet, she stood and watched, Erik vulnerably muttering rapidly and his eyes betrayed it all, and he stood up cumbersomely after crossing himself. Forehead, below the sternum, left side of his chest, right side of his chest. Ann took a deep breath, realizations setting in as Erik turned around, pulling her into a hug. He pulled out a ring and she realized it was the same one from years before.

"It's yours," He slid the giant ring onto her ring finger and when she looked up, she only his painful grimace before he collapsed unto the church floor.

**A/N: Hey, feeling like a depressed writer already, more so, I feel like the Roman Empire and that one thing that makes me so... :(**** Haha…but cheer me up mates! Have a Wonderful Harry Potter Day! Deathly Hallows! Well, no time to spare, gotta go do loads of homework**


	29. Chapter 28

"Erik! Erik, wake up!" Madame Giry desperately shook an unconscious Erik, "Please wake up!"

Her eyes scanned the empty church, outside still pitch black, she knew she had no way of getting Erik out if he had not awakened by morning, and she was not prepared for explanations. She sat back, blinking back tears over the subject of Erik. The church had felt like a sanctuary, and she was shocked, thinking of the man he might have been had he turned to the church instead years of abuse, abuse from his mother, from the gypsies, from society itself. She imagined him safe, the priest's assistant, a pious man. But her thoughts only led her back to where she was, on the floor next to Erik, slapping him senseless and then scanning the room for water with her eyes. Her fingers ran through his face, his hair to then she realized was a wig, yes she had realized that but never really thought about it. She buttoned up his cloak, uncertain of what to do and minutes past for she heard the bells in the church, or maybe in the distance striking at the hour. And then he coughed, his chest rising as he unconsciously and weakly reached for his face.

"Erik," She whispered, as if eager to tell a secret. He squinted to see her and was awed, frightened by the sight of her concerned face. With only some illumination, only her features were seen but her red hair, disheveled, was brilliant in the light, but his thoughts were only interrupted as she pulled him up fiercely and pulled him into a hug, holding his upper body up by a hug raucous in nature, "You frightened me!"

He groaned, "Oh, Annie, please relax."

"Well, what happened to you?" The possibilities ran through her mind; was it all deceit to make her feel sorry or was this a result of so many possible things: drug usage, failing health, a broken heart.

"I have no idea, I just know my back hurts like hell," He muttered, sardonically amused by her concern.

"You!" She sighed, shaking her head while supporting herself up "Well, can we go home now?"

She had said home. And realization set in that the opera house had been both their homes their entire lives. He looked as if he would stop to object but he nodded, attempting to stand up as Ann hesitantly reached forward to assist him, putting an arm around his body as the snuck out the church.

He was secretly enjoying this physical contact, he could admit, as Ann brewed him tea and ordered him to stay seated. It was just really boring, as he eyed his organ. But in Ann's mind, she could not see. She could not see the reason for her unhappiness, whether it was emitting from Erik or her own. She clearly knew it was one or the other and was so uncertain at her sudden springs to Erik whenever he needed her, but she was so obliged to do whatever he asked. Her mind wondered if Erik knew how different she was working at the opera house, indifferent to her ballerinas and uptight with her employers; she knew she was a message deliverer now but she had no objection to it and why? Why did her heart leap every time she found his letters, Erik trying to sound convincingly horrific and always reminding and cynical? Yet, she touched those letters as if they were letters from a husband off a war, savoring his every words and trying to find meanings between them, whether for her own amusement or seeing if he had mentioned her at all. Confusion spread across her, more now than ever but she did want to think. She turned around to see Erik, tapping his feet, and eyeing her intently. With a sigh, she brought over the overly stirred tea, and they sat in silence.

And that was the thought that remained still three years later. A clear sunny morning, she could recall Erik, letting her go the day after, eyes wet like a sad man who wept not for himself but for society itself. She couldn't help but notice, that he had been changed by love, had become a believer in life. She nodded to him, before blurting out what she had not wanted to say. Christine could be his student, for her own good. Especially when she found out about Christine returning home early from the friend's house and being at the opera house with some of the other girls who had no home to return to. She sat alone, eyeing Meg's first ballerina shoes sitting there in the cabinet, she had tried to find last night. And Meg came dashing in gracefully, a wide smile on her face.

"Happy birthday, Meg," She smiled, as Meg sat before her. She leaned down, kissing her and then finishing off by crossing her.

"Thank you, maman," She was delighted at the shower of attentions from her mother, who was ever the stricter yet human when she returned from that first visit to society at thirteen, "I love you,"

Madame Giry could only stroke her daughter's soft blond hair, "Your present will come later, now off to practice," She smiled after placing her palms on her knees and patted Meg before standing up. With that said, they hurried to practice as Christine came next to Meg, declaring a happy birthday to her best friend in song. She herself was four months younger, turning sixteen as well. Hearing her voice, Ann was taken back, lured to the bell-like singing voice of her adoptive daughter, so confident and she felt a surge of pride and thought immediately of Erik. She thought of the several times she had led Christine and let her enjoy her conversations with her "Angel of Music" and when her song was over, she nearly choked at the sight of her daughter smothered with hugs and felt reluctant to interrupt.

"Rehearsal!" She shouted, "But first, a change," she turned to look at her only daughter and thought, oh how much you should not know of the world. She thought of her own youth, of Erik, of their lives, and could only want to shield her from life. Yet looking at her, she could barely believe her daughter was a woman now, she was every way a woman but her face still shone with the same innocence as when she was six years old. But she was getting so old now, a prima in her mind and now she had no doubt she deserved this, "Meg, congratulations, you are now prima ballerina," And she smiled warmly at her daughter's shocked expression, "But remember, that can be easily taken away if you do not practice!"  
"_Susca_ me!" A screeching voice erupted and every one exasperatedly turned to face La Carlotta, "Carry on, will you, I am the star and I do NOT like being covered by a dancing girls!" She shrieked, with a lot of incomprehensible words in between. And Ann could only bite her lip at the leading soprano, "Well go on, go on!" She flapped her hands and everyone kept quiet, Monsieur Reyer standing the side before disappearing back into his office, the stagehands barely finding their cue. Yet, though the leading lady hailing from Italy was not the best, visitors flocked in random intervals and Meg had practiced to her extreme only to go back to before, the way it was. Yet, Carlotta was better than nothing and so they had practiced on, the familiar notes of Erik now filling her life. She had seen him in all these years though, he was hopelessly attached to Christine and Ann sensed he felt too awkward to call on her again. Along with that, she sensed him coming into Christine's life more, and he could not blame him for calling on a girl that was as old as her daughter, she was pretty and naive. Somehow it was the only way, it looked like, and it had not surprised her how her friendship had gone, despite missing her life horrendously. Life was a bumpy one but she cherished all that she had and for once, she was overcome with so much uncertainty, such unpredictability. A few months shortly after both of her girls were officially sixteen, Ann sensed a change in them that was not only due to age itself. And she knew the inevitable would occur when she did the only thing she could do, lost in this game of chess where she was doomed to lose, it all began when Christine sang the words, "Think of me,"

**A/N: What parallelisms eh? Well, it's a busy week but I promise I shall wrap everything up by the New Year, have a wonderful day!**


	30. Chapter 29

The star of the night was beaming; her radiant smile made her all the more beautiful. Her heart fluttered with joy as she breathed in the air that night. She felt like she was floating on the applause, on the sweet scent of flowers, and of _him_. Today, she was a star and she felt more a woman than she ever had, at sixteen. As Paris adored her pupil, her daughter, Antoinette Giry stood with a heavy heart, the cane more support for her shocked state than for any physical state. Her observations had taken her to see everything. Everything was going to change.

It had been years since she had even seen him but she could tell; he was madly emotional. Was it love? Was it loves that made her friend more possessive than ever and find a reason for life in a world that abhorred him? She had never felt this before, a sort of pity and envy that she wished for to disappear, imagining nights she was arm in arm with Erik, and now, thinking everything would be fine. What Christine needed was a father figure, a guide, and needing time away from the rest of the girls, so unlike herself. Then there was all that Erik needed, someone to blindly love him, in a literal sense, someone to depend on him, completely surrender to him and his ideals. This was something, Antoinette realized, she never could have given him, she was much too independent for him. She chuckled in recognition of the time when she had first slapped him when they were teenagers, Erik aghast and eyes livid. How fast it had all gone by. She could not think any further of the situation, she was young and he was beyond hope. Her role now no longer was a bribed matchmaker's, she had become an unwilling chaperone who acknowledged the relationship. Yet, this was not as bad, Erik would never hurt her. Erik had been very good to her and Meg, she pointed out. This time, it was just so out of control now, out of her grasp, for she could no longer chase after Erik and tell him he was wrong, too stubborn to agree then and worse now. And she could not let the one rationally true answer in her heart overcome her, that she-No, she would not reveal that to anyone.

She would have never thought more of the Vicompte de Chagny. At first she brushed off any idea of conflicts arising as something that would soon pass as the opera season would and Christine would continue to be a star, yet now her childhood sweetheart had returned at the climatic event of her teenage years, and the darkest of Erik's. She could hardly hold her breath when he walked past, eager to see Christine and she shook her head, merely an infatuation as she saw Christine much more enthusiastic than ever, and yet more confused than ever. For goodness sakes, he was a viscount, much higher than the rank of soprano singer but then again, her Jules was secretly higher in rank. So when the music started, she could not wish for any more than to shield Christine so happily in love with Raoul, a handsome, respectable boy. Meg stood next to her, blinking furiously, as if she knew. No, Erik has no sympathy now and she knew he would stop at nothing; this was not something Meg needed to be involved in. And seeing him for the first time in so long, she could not help but gasp. He looked better, healthier physically, confident as he stepped down each step. She stepped forward, feeling butterflies in her stomach and forgot who she was for a second, for a second she forgot Christine and forgot who Erik was. He was not even looking her way, she sighed, and he was looking at Christine, fright in her eyes and standing alone to be greeted as if by death himself. The sight of them brought on a feeling of star-crossed fate. The scene was interrupted and Ann prevented the rolling of her eyes at the sight of Raoul running back with Erik snatching her ring from her neck. She had not even recognized it until she saw Raoul running over. In a trance, she had realized the patron of the arts had followed dutifully and she ran. He would die! He had already done the unforgivable, murder, and she could not let it happen again. Somehow, her heart disagreed with anger at Erik and at the same time, a riddance of Raoul. He was a kind and caring man, she had nodded to that, and he truly did love Christine. So when he asked, she somehow knew he would be the only choice, the only choice to something she did not even know. He absorbed the story of Erik's past with intent but did not flicker from what he wanted, to him; his love for Christine was natural and needed no fight, she was his and he was her protector. Something so young and fresh was in their love for each other, two cautious people finding each other and creating a world for them. Of course, she saw the vanity, the selfishness, and the recklessness of their love but they were young and she noted the grudging vanity Erik held too, all these devoted years he spent though! She could not just allow this stranger to break his best friend's heart and Antoinette Giry knew balance was not a skill she was good at teaching, despite being a ballerina teacher for she was truly torn.

"Cleary, genius has turned to madness," He pressed on, as she let tears helplessly fall from her eyes, shaking her head. Another sleepless night for them all. That night, the viscount de Chagny asked for her permission to sit outside Christine's dormitory room, one she still slept in despite being the star for she had nowhere to live. She nodded fervently, and he bid her goodnight and left them all in their own thoughts.

He turned back though, and added, "Thank you for helping me, Madame," to which she could only nod, fingering the items on her desk. No, she was helping no one, she was on no one's side, and she just wanted everyone to live happily and normally, Christine to Meg to Erik to even Raoul. No, she was on nobody's side in this twisted game. Besides, Raoul was a man enough to face another gentleman who was neither ghost nor monster, but a man, for his Christine's heart.

At the end of the tossing and turning, as the sun had barely risen over a January morning, she sat up with the interminable questions racing in her mind, and the stupidest one of all? What drew Erik away from her; was she not pretty enough? All of a sudden she needed him, she wanted him physically, for it was too late for he was always there occupying her mind. However, today was another day, to train the ballerinas as her duty and she took a deep breath and she pondered.

"We have all been blind, and yet the answers staring us in the face," He glared intently at them all as Madame Giry gasped, eyes travelling from Raoul to the managers.

"Erik," she thought and she understood she must see him, warn him, but somehow she could already picture him, and she looked up. With another flash of a cape, it was noted Erik was up there, listening to the conversation and in her left ear, a familiar voice whispered:

"I don't care, Antoinette, I bloody don't mind at all!" And she could hear the underlying anger in his maniacal tone.

"You can't do this!" She hissed, to Erik but the managers turned to glare only once before starting to wander down the halls of the backstage, as she followed helplessly and attempting to voice in her opinions that everything would go horribly. Yet she could not help herself from stopping breathless at the sight of him that very night, when he noticeably ended up on stage, his voice perhaps even more passionate. All around were the blank faces of an audience to a tragic end and a wave of familiarity drew her back to everything and for a moment, she could not stand still and held on to the neighboring policeman. All those reminders she had thrown to the managers, to everyone, "Hands at the level of your eyes," and all, she had never thought off until now and there was no turning back. She eyed her daughter dancing away, the very dance moves she choreographed, then to Christine, and a wonderful actress she had become. It was confusion to see if she truly loved the man under the mask or not at this point and the house sat at the edge of their seats, drawn into their compelling relationship.

"Oh God," She breathed, repeating it to herself several times, watching the scene fixedly. Antoinette Giry saw that black domino mask come off, saw Erik's face from a distance and knew that he had now lived through his worst fear and screamed, wanting no more than to run up to him. To have been scorned by the woman he so madly and intensely loved and to have a full house of people see his face. She closed her eyes, fists clenched; the song had ended.

The End

**Author's Note: Thank you all so very much for reading my story from beginning to end now, you guys have guided me through a year and more of attempting to finish the story and I have. Special thanks to elizabethbennet3553 and Spot, your comments have really meant lots to me! Thank you all, reviewers and watch out for more of my stories *wink, wink* and once more, THANK You! Lots of kisses!**


End file.
